


Unbreakable

by my_thestral



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Community: hp_nextgen_fest, Cousin Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/pseuds/my_thestral
Summary: Al's fascination with Hugo goes back to the day he was born and never waivers through all the childhood years they spend together, living in each other's pocket. For a boy like Al, who perpetually feels like a loser in a family, filled with over-achievers, Hugo's quiet confidence and unconditional affection feels like salvation. How could something so right possibly be wrong? Until Al slowly comes to realise that the world thinks what they have is too much and wrong. Can Al, not one up to much ruckus and conflict, stand up for what he wants in life?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my dearest friend Nia_Kantorka as her super-belated, slightly crumpled birthday present that I promised her a million years ago in a Universe, far, far away… Happy much belated birthday, darling! As always, I hope the intent matters more than the actual present. And last but very much not least: my biggest thank you goes to my indispensable and super-fast betas B. and C. because this would probably be grammatical apocalypse without their dedication and their expert input!

_ “Merlin, Harry, have you got him?! I’ve looked everywhere! He was in the kitchen a while ago, getting under everyone’s feet, so I told him to go out… but now he's nowhere to be found!” _

_ “Gin, please don’t panic just yet! I’ll have a look upstairs again. You know there’s a million hidden spots in the Burrow for a child to hide. He couldn’t have gone outside – he can’t reach the doorknob yet. He’s got to be around here somewhere.” _

_ “But I told you – I’ve looked  _ everywhere _! I’ve been looking for him for an hour! Every room, every corner… my god, Harry… what if something’s happened to him? I just told him he was in my way, and now he’s gone. He’s barely two years old… What if he’s lying somewhere, hurt? I’ll never forgive myself!” _

_ “Now…Ginny… don’t you go crying on me, love. We’ll find him, I’m sure we will. I’ll go fetch Ron to help us, and…” _

_ “Looking for me, were you? Good to know I’m welcome for once! Have you, by any chance, got any need for this curious little fellow?” _

_ “Albus!! Merlin, Allie, you gave Mummy such a fright! Don’t you run away on me like that ever again! Good Lord, this child will be the death of me. Where were you, pumpkin?” _

_ “Uh… erm, he seems to have  _ accidentally _ Apparated with us when we left. He must have crawled into Hugo’s cot – again – and I only just found him when I went to check on Hugh. Something seemed off, having Hugo silent for so long – that child never sleeps more than half an hour at a time. And there was your little lad, with his arms wrapped around Hugh, and they were both sleeping as soundly as a pair of Kneazles. It seemed a shame to bring him back because they were sleeping so nicely – we don’t get much of that anymore – but Hermione said I had to, that you’d be worried sick. Of course, Hugo started wailing bloody murder the second I took Al out – I swear, those vocal chords put Mum’s to shame! I kind of ran away with Al – it was only fair to leave Hermione handling Hugo since she insisted we break them up.” _

_ “What – again? That’s got to be – what? – the fourth or the fifth time? Why does the little scoundrel do that? Allie, darling… You have to stop crawling into Hugo’s cot, sweetie… Hugo is just a baby, you could hurt him, tumbling about. Will you do that for Mummy? No more crawling into Hugo’s cot, promise?” _

But I wouldn’t. At least that’s how my dad remembers it, and he’s got no reason to lie. My dad’s Harry Potter – yes,  _ that _ Harry Potter – and the boy from the story… that’s me. Al… Albus, ugh, Severus Potter – what kind of a bloody heavy name is that to drag around and live up to?! Anyway, it’s mostly just Al.  _ Or _ … Allie, as the one person that makes my heartbeat go wild whispers in my ear, making me shiver from head to toe with bone-melting, uncontrollable love.

I never made that promise… and I wouldn’t stop looking for Hugo every chance I got. Not when I was barely two years old, and not now, almost two decades later. Perhaps back then I didn’t even know why I so stubbornly refused to let him go, but now… now I’m too bloody aware of it. Hugo is… he makes everything… he’s… Bloody hell, I can’t even find words.

As a child, I would make my dad tell and retell me that story countless times, and it never failed to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside… it never failed to make my heart beat faster, as if even at that tender age, it was already aware of its beautiful, painful secret. Because you see, Hugo is…  _ my _ Hugo. He’s  _ mine _ , all right? Mine. I don’t have to share him with anyone because he wants no one but me. He’s my best friend… my  _ only _ friend… my confidante… my… we’re… he’s my world. And because my life is fucked up that way, he’s also my cousin. And that… messes with my brain. I can’t tell right from wrong anymore. So, I decided to write it down. Perhaps I’ll see it more clearly.

~

_ Mother of God, Al, I love you inside out and then some, but you’re the master of making things complicated. Nothing – no fucking thing – is straightforward to you, is it babe? It’s all curves, sharp edges, and odd little corners, or what-ifs and oh-god-please-don’ts – I mean, seriously?! When it’s all so simple! _

_ We’re in love. _

_ You, Al Potter, and I, Hugo Weasley, are a pair of goddamn cousins who happen to be in love. With each other. Madly so. Always have been, always will be. It’s as simple as that. If someone can’t deal with that, they can kindly fuck off. And don’t tell me that is rude – I did say kindly, didn’t I?! _

_ So tell me again – why am I supposed to read this? And ‘write down my thoughts’ even? Bloody hell, precious, the things I do for you… _

~


	2. Chapter 2

It’s always been love. In fact, it was love at first sight – I was just too young to see it as such. But I do remember. I was almost two when he was born; I should have been too young to remember, but I do, with absolute clarity.

Uncle Ron walked in that day, beaming more than ever, and carrying a small blue bundle in his arms. Uncle Ron was my favourite uncle. He always seemed happy to see me, and he’d always sneak me a sweet behind mum’s back, right before dinner. Just me, no one else. That always made me feel ridiculously special. When I was a wee child, Uncle Ron seemed like the tallest person ever. When I saw him approach with a little blue bundle, I thought he had brought me a present. I remember squealing in happy expectation.

“Want to see something, Allie?”

He kneeled down, so he was closer to my height, and he leaned my present closer so I could admire it. It was… oh…  _ lovely _ . I saw a tiny doll, just like those Rosie had, only this one was a bit bigger and much prettier. It had porcelain skin and a tuft of bright red hair on the round head – the very same colour that Uncle Ron had. I could barely breathe. I’d always wanted my own doll, but no one would ever buy me one, and Rosie wouldn’t let me play with hers.

I touched the doll’s funny hair carefully with my sweaty, none-too-clean palm, and it was the softest thing ever. The colourful tuft seemed to follow my hand, tickling it and making me giggle. It must have been that sound that startled the little doll, and it opened its eyes…

Oh.  _ Oh _ ….

The little doll’s eyes were like two round crystal buttons of the deepest, glittering blue, and they looked straight at my face. The little shiny gems reminded me of those earrings Mummy wore on special occasions, and she was very angry once when she found James playing with one. She called it “too precious”. The little doll’s eyes were precious.

“Gimme…”

“Allie, no! Careful, there… What do you think this is, darling?”

“Dolly…” I said firmly and looked Uncle Ron in the face, absolutely certain I got it right. “Fol Allie.”

I was surprised to see Uncle Ron let out a somewhat shocked chuckle, but then he ruffled my hair gently, making it stick up in every direction, and kissed me on the forehead.

“No, Allie. This isn’t a dolly. It’s a  _ baby _ . This is your cousin Hugo, Rosie’s little brother.”

_ A baby?! _ No way this pretty porcelain doll was  _ a baby _ . I knew what a baby was. I had one at home. And I didn’t like it. A baby was a girl, her name was Lily, and she cried all the time. And she smelled funny, but everyone still seemed to like her better than me. No way this was a baby!

“A dolly,” I repeated stubbornly, feeling the tears pool in my eyes, as if someone was trying to take something precious from me. “Fol Allie!”

And as if Hugo was trying to prove my point, a tiny clumsy hand shot out and the little fingers wrapped around my finger, squeezing it tightly. My tears were instantly forgotten, and I nearly squealed with joy. The dolly  _ liked _ me!

“Right,” Uncle Ron said carefully, and smiled indulgently. “A dolly for Allie. But because you might get another dolly sometime in the future, we have to give it a name. And this one came with a box that said  _ Hugo _ . Can you say Hugo, Allie?”

“Yuuu-go,” I tried very hard, and saw Uncle Ron’s face bloom into one of those warm, happy smiles.

“That’ll do,” he nodded approvingly. “Good job, young man. Hugo.”

“Yuugo.”

“Aaaee…” said the dolly, squeezing my finger tightly, and gurgled happily. And just like that, my heart instantly boiled with love. Pure, simmering love.

~

_ Oh… Uhm… Yeah, so I never knew that – you never told me that, love. Yeah, I suppose… it’s always been love, from the very beginning. You were always there for me, right where I wanted you to be. Almost like… you were an extension of me, something that should rightfully be a part of me that somehow got disconnected in some bizarre accident, and left me feeling incomplete. Everything just falls to place when you’re around. _

_ You see… It’s not how  _ you _ know me… but I was always miserable and moody when you were away… I still am. _

_ According to Dad, who – as you well know – did most of the parenting around the house, I was a fussy, bossy little brat with an uncommonly large lung capacity and the propensity to howl for hours, eat chalk rather than veggies, and test my bursts of magic on Mum’s ancient half-Kneazle, Crookshanks – remember him? He eventually started hissing at the mere sight of me. I was high-maintenance. Poor Dad. _

_ But as soon as he or one of the other adults caved in and took me to you, my Allie… my world was instantly righted again. My nagging was all but forgotten, and I turned into world’s happiest, brightest child, as if I was trying to impress you. Perhaps I was. Isn’t that what younger kids do – try to impress the older ones? God, how I looked up to you. I never looked up to James – I only ever wanted to defy him – but to you… oh, yes. I was the happiest when it was just us, so I could worship you and follow you around with no distractions. _

_ You’re the very first thing I remember – and I must have been tiny… as far as I know I couldn’t walk yet. I don’t remember much; just those bright emerald eyes smiling at me from the blur that was the rest of the big world out there. They were shining with a warm, green flame, like cheerful little candles, and I remember feeling warm, protected and perfectly happy when you pulled a blanket around us and we held on to each other… And I remember closing my eyes in that little nest, made from a silly old Weasley blanket and our embrace, and breathing in the absolutely right and perfect way you smelled. Like all the comfort I’m ever going to need was coming from you. I reckon that scent was love. _

_ We would just lie there in my cot and not give a damn about the world going mad and frantic with worry around us, as long as we could rest in our tiny bubble of peace and joy. Your dad still likes to remind me of those days – pointing to the two grey hairs he’s got: “You boys did that!” _

_ I guess we never stopped, did we? We never stopped this… desperate search to find one another, to be with each other, did we? Everyone expected us to grow apart as we grew older and our horizons expanded, but we never did. Perhaps it’s only me, but I seem to need you more with each passing day... or perhaps I just became more aware of it. Like the world expects me to hand you over and let you go, and I grow more defiant every day. But perhaps it is only me… What are you trying to tell me, Albus? Do you want us… to quit each other? Allie? _

_ ~ _


	3. Chapter 3

Up until the day I looked into my dolly’s – my Hugo’s – eyes, I never felt good enough.

Perhaps I would have been less… affected, if I felt I was… up to this world. You know – that I could somehow prove myself to be worthy of all the world’s expectations.  _ Harry Potter’s son. _ The one that  _ looked _ like him. Things were expected of me, and don’t you think they weren’t! I know James was first and he should have been the one – but James is… James. He doesn’t care. He’s honestly just this mischievous, reckless, happy-go-lucky, everything-comes-easy child who might as well have been a direct descendant of the original Marauder, James Potter, our grandfather, and has no obvious connection to our troubled dad.

But I… I often feel as if I have the weight of the entire world on my shoulders. Mum says I should stop being overly-dramatic and that I remind her of Uncle Ron when he was my age – though it’s hard to imagine the cheerful, confident Uncle Ron ever being broody and feeling… not good enough... all the time.

But how could I not? I’m Harry Potter’s loser son, born into a family of over-achievers, good at nothing. At absolutely nothing. Always was. I learned to walk at the age when James was already busy buzzing around on his little broom; and unlike my cousin Rose, who chattered incessantly since she was nine months old, I never spoke much – oh, I knew how, I just didn’t think I had anything to say worth listening to. And – the capital sin – I was a reserved, hopelessly shy child in the midst of my cousins, who were the loudest, screechiest, most assertive pack of kids you can imagine.

Seriously, it wasn’t just a bunch of alpha-male-wannabes in there – piss Rose off, and you’d soon find yourself lacking teeth to complain with. Even, Lils – Lily Luna, my younger, mild-mannered sister – well, she’s not loud and obnoxious like most of them are, but she knows how to put her foot down when the circumstances require it, and I swear there’s no one that girl can’t manipulate to do her bidding. No wonder she’s one of the most popular assistant professors among the Hogwarts staff. I have no such skills.

I always felt powerless… unwanted, even. Sometimes I think that perhaps if Mum and Dad had waited a little longer to have a new baby after they had me, I would have found my footing in the world – but no, I can’t really go blaming my parents. Lots of other kids have siblings close to their age, and they cope just fine. But I didn’t. So, there I was, two years old, feeling robbed of all attention and any worth, and I didn’t think I had anything going for me to get it back. Between everyone fussing over Lily, how pretty and precious she was, and trying to pull apart James and Rose fighting, I often found myself forgotten or left behind. I suppose it didn’t help that I had an uncanny ability to get under people’s feet just when it was least convenient, so the little attention I did get was often an exasperated sigh and something along the lines of:  _ “Albus, honey, not right now… Perhaps a little later, darling. Could you just… yes, that’s it, dear. Go play with your cousins.” _

Even at that early age, I remember feeling lost and… not quite fitting in. But then Hugo’s little doll fingers wrapped around my own, and I was no longer unloved. As soon as my Hugh looked at me with those shiny blue buttons, everything changed. I’d found purpose, and with it, determination. I knew what I wanted. I wanted Hugo. And god help me, I still do.

_ ~ _

_ Oh, for fuck’s sake, Albus… You prat… up yours, scaring me like that! For a moment there I thought you no longer wanted… that you no longer… Fuck. I fucking stopped breathing, I’ll have you know. Don’t  _ ever _ scare me like that again! I’d smack you around the head and kiss you blind and boneless if you were here now. Which you aren’t. So… that means I can’t show you how I feel. I have to bloody write it. Ugh… You know how much I hate this crap! But I suppose… for you… _

_ Yeah… I know I don’t say it much, eh? Uhm… you see, I don’t really know to describe it. I know I’ve got Mum’s brain, but I’ve got Dad’s ability to express my feelings. Or lack thereof. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have them, though. Sometimes I think that’s all I am made of. The deepest, most intense feelings. And they’re all for you. _

_ I barely feel anything when you’re not around. The food tastes bland. My days are colourless. All the books seem dull and my experiments are on stand-by until I can share them with you. I love my family to bits – hell, I even like that snot Malfoy, trying to get under Rose’s skirt for two… five… years now – but you know what? I positively hate hanging around with them when you’re not near. Rose calls me antisocial, but I don’t want to deal with them constantly putting their nose in my business, and they bloody grate on my nerves, all right?! _

“Oh, Hugo, when are you going to bring a lovely young lady home?” _ Fucking never, that’s when. Don’t like them; I never did. _

“Darling, please cut your hair, you look like a girl!” _ So it looks all right on dad and I look like a girl?! Wait, let me just get a tattoo in a place you can actually see – maybe that will make a difference? _

“Hugo, son… please come out of your room, your mother says she hasn’t seen you in a week!”  _ Well, she could try bloody remembering where she lives every so often and actually come home from the office if she wants us to be introduced. _

“For Merlin’s sake, Hugo Weasley, he’ll be here in two hours; stop moping about!” _ Yeah… I know, Rose. I’m counting minutes. _

_ Everything feels shallow, superficial and unimportant, with no content and meaning when you’re not around. Everything and everyone just… annoys me. _

_ But then you show up through the Floo, coughing and spluttering ash and cinder – because 22 years of Flooing is just not enough experience to do it right – and when you smile that sheepish smile… or smirk… or curse like a mad Troll… you’re just…  _ it _. That tightening in my chest that makes me short of breath finally uncoils, my day… my world just explodes in colour and feelings – so many of them – and my life makes sense again. There’s anger and frustration because it took you so bloody long again… there’s relief because you found your way to me after all… and there’s this blinding want… need… hunger for you that makes me see you as if you’re the only person in the room, pulling me closer, like a vortex that I can’t and won’t put up a fight against. _

_ Bloody hell… Who knew it was so hard to put love into words? Don’t I say it enough, Allie? I do, you know. Love you. I love you, Albus Potter. I thought you knew. Is there something else you want from me, precious? _

_ ~ _


	4. Chapter 4

It started innocently enough. I mean, we loved each other from the first day, and everyone thought how cute it was – albeit occasionally inconvenient – and no one ever told us it was wrong. Until they did. But by that time, it was much too late. I came to need Hugo… depend on him, even… as much as one can need and depend on another human being.

I guess someone should have got a clue when I dragged Lily in her pram to Uncle Ron’s one day and tried to negotiate a trade for Hugo. In my childish mind, it was a perfect idea – Lily could play with Rose because they were both girls, and I would get Hugo, for good. I didn’t understand why Aunt Hermione laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes – I was being perfectly serious! – but she still smacked Uncle Ron on the back playfully when he proposed with a big grin on his face:

“Maybe we could… just for a few days, Mione. Look how nicely she’s sleeping – and Hugo… I reckon you go to office so early, you at least catch up on some sleep there… Brilliant idea if there ever was one, Allie!”

But when I realised I wouldn’t be allowed to take Hugo home with me, I burst into tears of pure devastation, and Hugo happily added his own miserable howls, so in the general Armageddon, it was agreed I could take Hugo home for one day. It ended up being nearly a week, and we had a repeat performance of joint howling when they finally managed to drag us apart.

But I felt so lost without him; no one understood. I felt robbed of every purpose when he was not around and I didn’t understand why people were too thick to see how good we were together. I was the only one who could get Hugo to sleep in seconds. I would just wrap around him, cover us with our worn blanket, close my eyes in our warm little nest, and feel the happiness seep in. When the tiny, wet face nuzzled against mine, making me giggle, he was usually out already. It didn’t take long for me to follow.

And that wasn’t the only thing I was good at! I was better at spoon-feeding Hugh than even Grandma Molly – and never mind that I managed to spill half of whatever was on the plate through play and my clumsiness. Grandma Molly often declared that if I could cook, she would not be afraid to leave us alone for a fortnight – the adults hardly remembered we existed when we were together. We barely needed anyone’s attention, and I never grew tired of playing with Hugo, even though James called it “baby games” and told me I would have to go back to wearing a nappy. But though the idea of a nappy didn’t appeal to me, I wasn’t about to give up my time with Hugo. That sunshine smile on his baby face just melted away the gloominess I felt through most of my days, and he so happily imitated everything I did that for once in my life, I felt properly worshipped and important.

But without him… without him, I continued to be a fuck-up, a pale echo of the grand Harry Potter, like I wasn’t even a person, just his twisted, broken clone…. But you see – for this one person, for my Hugh, even that was good enough. However insignificant and disappointing my shortcomings made me feel, he could always make it all better for me.

I think I first realised just how much I came to depend on him during my first flying lesson. I just knew it was going to be a bloody disaster if there ever was one! I tried to postpone it for as long as I could because everyone just assumed I was going to excel at it, and I simply…  _ hated _ the idea. James and Rose had been flying since they could sit straight, if only on a toy broom back then, and close to the ground, but I… phew. I wasn’t’ comfortable with the heights, and I… I just wasn’t all that athletic, I guess. I followed Quidditch enthusiastically, just like everyone else, but it was safely from the ground, and even just watching the players sometimes made me dizzy

Of course, I was too much of a coward to actually mention this to anyone, so when Dad and Uncle Ron announced that we’re going to start practising flying on proper brooms before my departure to Hogwarts – “we” being everyone but James and Rose, who already flew better than they walked – I waited for that summer day with the same enthusiasm as a prisoner waiting for execution.

Of course it was a mortifying experience – of course it bloody was! Or very nearly. At least at the beginning it was. Even with the youngest Seeker in a century for a father and a former professional Quidditch player for a mum, I still couldn’t get the damn broom to fly into my hand no matter how hard I tried. Luckily, neither could Lily, so I had that one small consolation. But Hugo just looked at the damn thing darkly, barking the quietest, most adamant  _ “Up!” _ ever – and that bloody stick flew up like a hippogriff! I swear, it would have folded out the red carpet if it had one! Yeah, my Hugh is all attitude, and even the broom sensed it.

Watching him mount it with that quiet ‘you-will-yield-to-me’ confidence made me swallow a knot in my throat, and when he gave me a small, sweet, encouraging smile, I felt the blood rush to my face for very confusing reasons. He looked so damn dashing hovering on that broom, with the blue summer sky in the background and the wind sweeping through that golden red hair. That’s the first time I remember thinking how… oh, god…  _ pretty _ he was, and I had the sudden mad thought that I never wanted to share him. I always wanted to remember him like this: with wind-swept hair, those blue eyes reflecting the skies, and smiling sweetly at me – only at me.

“Come on, Albus, can’t you get it up?!” James swept past me, brutally cutting though my daydream, and then howling with laughter at his own joke, though I had no idea what he found so funny. My brother isn’t evil; he never was, judging by the number of abandoned puppies, crippled Kneazles and half-bald owls he used to drag home to give them shelter – but he’s not the most…  _ sensitive _ person. His teasing crushed what little confidence I had, and my renewed efforts to get that damn broom to move came to nothing. No amount of shouting helped, and the bloody thing didn’t even flutter – not even after long minutes of focused attempts that were making my throat raw. God, I was desperate… and James’ swooping around and mad giggling didn’t exactly help. But he didn’t giggle for long.

I heard a barely audible but undoubtedly livid hiss –  _ “Oh, shut the hell up, you twat!” – _ coming from my left, and the next thing I knew, Jamie’s broom suddenly burst into flames while he was still in mid-air. The chaos was immediate. Dad swished Jamie to safety with a quick levitation spell, while Uncle Ron blasted the burning broom to smithereens, and I just stood there with my heart beating madly in my throat, perfectly aware of what had just happened. Hugo’s wild, unpredictable magic was of the worst sort, and though he allegedly couldn’t control it, it always seemed to do just what he wanted it to do. He’d caused chaos and mayhem before, but he never unleashed it on another person. Until that moment.

And he appeared to think nothing of it. He sneaked up close to me, hissed another vicious  _ “Up!” _ at my broom – and bloody thing just jumped up to do his bidding. Well, fuck me backwards… But I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I mumbled a grateful, quiet, and highly embarrassed  _ “Thanks” _ , and awkwardly tried to balance myself on the bloody stick. Uncle Ron assured me that it was the slowest broom in the shed and perfectly stable, yet to me, it seemed scarily big, even menacing, and I held on to it for dear life with my trembling hands.

But I couldn’t keep the mess that I had turned into quietly bottled up. I knew something major had happened.

“Hugh…” I started in a shaky voice, not really aware of what I really wanted to tell him, but he just shook his head in that adamant way he had:

“Don’t,” he warned me. “I knew he’d get out of it unharmed with our dads present. But I was just so  _ angry _ ! He was bullying you. He always does. Your dad never acknowledges it, and for my dad this constitutes normal – it’s how he grew up with five older brothers. But I won’t let anyone hurt you. Now, let’s do this together. Do you want to hold hands, you think?”

It’s impossible to describe the gush of hot, vicious love that rushed through me at those words. I had an insane urge to hug him and just… hold on, inhaling his bravery and that absolute love he had for me, and I couldn’t wait until the evening to have him near me again. We always shared a room when staying at the Burrow – and if someone was occasionally stupid enough to think that we wouldn’t, we always found ways to make our assigned rooms uninhabitable so that we had no other option than to share. The Burrow’s weak constitution couldn’t take adding much more than a couple more bathrooms, but my grandparents refused to move – so it was still pretty much still the same old house, packed to the rafters with Weasleys, Potters, Grangers, and occasionally even Longbottoms and Scamanders at every major holiday and event.

I didn’t mind it. If I’d had it my way, I would have moved permanently to that wonderful, ghastly-orange old room of Uncle Ron’s and shared it with Hugo, the way we did during the holidays. Every year, I couldn’t wait for hols. We’d laugh late into the night – sometimes so hard that there were adults banging on our door to tell us to shut it and finally go to sleep – we’d play board games, guessing games, and dares – guess who won most of those… But I didn’t mind losing to Hugo, and I had the feeling that sometimes he would fail just to make me feel better about myself. Oh, and we complained about our siblings and other relatives, contemplated our futures – somehow, we both agreed it would be somewhere undefined, but definitely spent together – and we just… slept near each other.

We’d wrap around each other like we always used to, and nothing and no one could pull us apart. Once, James barged through the door and nearly ruined it all with his snotty –  _ “Ew, can you two stop acting like overgrown babies?!” _ – but all the awkwardness he made me feel disappeared the second I saw a blissful smile light up the brilliant blue of Hugo’s eyes from up close.

“He’s just jealous,” he said quietly, and my heart nearly melted. “He doesn’t have what we have. No one does.”

Yes, that’s what it was. James was jealous, because for once, I had something he couldn’t take away from me. My Hugh would have no one but me. He loved snuggling into my arms, I loved having him there – what could possibly be wrong about that?

Only, in the last year it’s become evident that we’re going to have to do it the other way around – I’ll have to crawl into his embrace. Even though we were nearly two years apart, it was already evident Hugo was going to be just as much of a giant as his dad was – and I inherited  _ every.bloody.thing _ from my dad, even his barely-medium height, which everyone believed was the result of malnutrition and neglect in his youth. Oh, how about  _ not _ … I wasn’t going to be very tall, that much was already clear to me by the age of eleven, but like most things I’d probably tear myself up over, it was rendered unimportant by a single one of Hugo’s shrugs:

“Who the hell cares, Al? You’re compact and wiry like your dad, and I’m going to be a bloody cloud-piercing troll like mine – and you’re telling me one is actually better than the other? It’s  _ different _ , not better. Besides,” he smiled sweetly, with just the right amount of innocent embarrassment to start a weird fire of… something… something suspiciously like longing in the pit of my stomach, “I’d feel really weird calling you Allie if you were taller than I.”

And that, my friends, did it. That, right there. I didn’t fucking care about anything else. If being tall was going to stop my Hugo from calling me Allie – something that brought inexplicable, incomprehensible joy to me and never failed to paint a goofy smile onto my face – I was happy to be a midget for all time. 

My first flying lesson continued reasonably well with Hugo present. It was as if I could feel his care, his strength, his love for me seeping into me from his warm fingers intertwined with mine, and it gave me courage enough to persevere. Though we barely left the ground and we moved really slowly, Lily’s admiring,  _ “Look, Dad, Al is doing it with one hand!” _ , really made my heart soar. I didn’t want to think about the time when I’d have to do this all by myself.

Uncle Ron kept throwing anxious looks in our direction, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he worried for us, the beginners, or because he had cottoned on to Hugo being the cause of James’s predicament. But in the end, he chose not to say anything. What could he have done? Pre-teens’ magic was unpredictable; that’s what every book on magic said, and he had no reason to think Hugo was behind that, though I think he knew. Unlike my dad, who was always busy saving everyone in the whole bloody world, Uncle Ron dropped his career in a heartbeat to take care of Hugo and Rose, and unlike my dad, he knew his kids inside out.

Aunt Hermione always muttered that he was covering for too much of Hugo’s mischief, boosting his ego unnecessarily when my wonderful Freckly could have done with some humility – but it was all in vain. It was clear Uncle Ron was determined that Hugo would have all the confidence he himself had lacked as a child, and in Hugo’s case, he didn’t have to work very hard. But it wasn’t like Hugo was conceited. He was just…  _ Hugo _ , the one and only, and he did everything in his own unique way and never sought apology for anything he had done. And this time, it was no different. No remorse, no apology, or nothing of the sort.

“Is James all right, then?” was all he asked his dad when we were done, and Uncle Ron seemed to take it as a sign of care.

“Fine,” he muttered grumpily, looking a bit relieved. “But no one knows what happened. Ginny… your Aunt Ginny is very upset. She’s screeching that we need to have all the old brooms in the shed burned… but there are a few really nice specimens still in there! Some nice memories, too! That Firebolt Harry and I came across one day, badly damaged and clearly discarded – it reminded Harry of his first Firebolt, and he’s had it completely renewed since… And then there’s my first Cleansweep Five – bit of a museum artefact, that one… And…”

“Yeah, uhm... best tell her it was me, then,” Hugo suggested so matter-of-factly it took my breath away. “James was doing all those loops and I panicked… my magic went haywire and… you know… the usual. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I  _ can’t _ just… was it you?” Uncle Ron looked flabbergasted.

“It might have been,” Hugo shrugged, perfectly unperturbed. “He was making me nervous with that hysterical giggling. It’s not like I can control it, is it? Come, Al, let’s get these in. Best not put them in the shed in case your mum decides on a bonfire after all.”

It was the sight of poor Uncle Ron just standing there with his jaw nearly hitting the ground that made me feel as if I needed to talk to Hugo about it. You know – that  _ “carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders” _ that I mentioned? Yeah, I meant it. Whenever James brought home an odd injured animal, I’d hide and sniffle for hours, just thinking how much it must have suffered. I’d feel bad every time Uncle Ron’s favourite Quidditch team, the infamous Chudley Cannons, didn’t pull off a surprise victory – which they never did – and I turned into their most staunch supporter for a few hours after the match just to put him in a better mood. And I felt guilty as hell at that moment.

Jamie wouldn’t have been… well, he wasn’t hurt, but he wouldn’t have even been in danger if I wasn’t so bloody incompetent. And though I would absolutely avoid such a conversation if it was anyone else, I knew I could discuss anything that bothered me with my Hugh. And this…  _ bothered _ me. He was not yet ten years old, and so incredibly ruthless it scared me… though I must confess it also left me a little bit in awe.

So when Hugo, fresh from the shower and smelling absolutely like delight, snuggled up against me in our bed, I opened my mouth and just blurted it out.

“You can’t do that anymore, Hugh… hurt people… because of me.”

He didn’t even flinch, as if he knew it was coming.

“Why?” he wanted to know, and those beautiful eyes stared straight into mine, unyielding.

“Because…” I didn’t really get ready for this, I realised. “Because it isn’t right,” I said finally, feeling somehow wrong to oppose him.

“So I should have just let him taunt you? How’s that right?”

Well, he had a point… of course he bloody well did, he  _ always _ had a point. His mother’s son as much as his father’s, my Hugh, and Aunt Hermione wasn’t the youngest Minister for Magic for no reason. Like her, Hugo was dangerously smart.

But this wasn’t about who had a better argument – this was me, trying to stop him from hurting people because… oh, blast, I had the worst reason. I didn’t care so much about the well-being of whomever he was willing to hurt; mostly, I was just worried he would get in trouble and I would lose him. They’d tried to drag us apart on a few occasions already, albeit subtly, but if Hugo hurt someone because of me… I swallowed quietly. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I could lose you,” I told him quietly, my voice trembling at the mere thought. “If it had been your mum today rather than your dad witnessing what happened – she would have guessed it, and she would have made a point of dragging us apart for god-knows how long. And I just… we have so little time now… I’d miss you terribly, Hugh.”

“Shut up,” he whispered and wrapped his thin, wiry arms around my head, allowing me to hide in the wonderful shelter of his embrace that flooded my senses with the scent of happiness so rich and thick I could almost taste it. “You know I can’t ever bear to be away from you. I swear I won’t sleep a minute when you leave.”

He didn’t have to say it, but there it was – the thing all my sleepless nights were made of this summer. Going to Hogwarts. I was almost two years older – my Hogwarts letter had already arrived, and for once, Hugo couldn’t follow me. We were destined to be apart… a year at the very least, maybe even two. The mere thought filled me with dread.

Buried in his comfortable, delightful embrace, I didn’t want to think about it, coward that I was – but this was my Hugo, and it was just not on. My Freckly was always so much stronger and just so insanely…  _ out there _ with his thoughts and feelings, no fear of anyone’s opinion and no bloody filter whatsoever.

“It makes my skin crawl thinking about it,” he blurted out, sounding a bit choked. “And lately, I can’t think of anything else. What if they hurt you? I can’t help you if they do, sitting halfway across the country! And you’re going to let them, aren’t you? I know you are, you’re not like the rest of us. You’re just so bloody… tender, Allie, yeah?” he said gently, and the way he said my name brought unexpected tears into my eyes. “It’s like you’ve got no resistance in you to protect you from people being mean – and I’m ready to fucking  _ murder _ anyone who’s about to be mean to you!”

“Hugo…” I breathed, suddenly dizzy and once again flooded with the most intense, most brilliant and confusing feelings I had no way of disentangling at the age of eleven. I no longer cared if my little speech had turned counter-productive… I didn’t even care how wrong it was. Hugo just gave me what I so desperately craved: the feeling that I was thoroughly, absolutely loved, regardless of how faulty I was, no matter what. Something only he could ever give me. I couldn’t put into words how precious and complete he made me feel… I couldn’t. So I went and did the wildest, maddest thing – and kissed him… kissed a part of him… but it counts, yeah? It was just a quick, shy peck on his collar bone, the bit that was the closest to my lips – but without a shadow of a doubt, my world flipped over and changed with that simple act of innocent love I could not hold back.

For once, he froze – and so did I. How could I be so stupid? Could we just pretend I bumped into him? But, god oh god, the taste of his warm skin seemed to still linger on my lips, and I couldn’t get the mind-boggling scent of him – the fresh, clean smell of soap and that inexplicable sweet Hugo fragrance – out of my memory, as if I were somehow poisoned with it. I doomed myself in that moment. I know that now, but back then I was just scared, confused, and absolutely intoxicated with my own mad bravery, with my Hugh.

He knew better than to make a big deal out of it, so he just lay there, not moving a muscle, but I could feel the quick pace of his heartbeat where my head was resting on his chest. Eventually, I closed my eyes and wished I could remain like this forever: listening to the heartbeat of the one person that could make my own heart beat madly.

“Will you miss me?” he whispered, and I feverishly whispered  _ “Like mad,” _ before he could get any other ideas.

“I sometimes fear that you won’t,” he confessed quietly, and my eyes just popped open in surprise. How could he? I had no one else but him! “I think that you’ll go out there, Harry Potter’s son, find someone… someone  _ your age _ to admire you, and who’d want to be friends – perhaps not one, but many – and then you’d forget all about me. You’ll soon think me childish and too… plain… just the way James does. I won’t be your Hugh anymore… I’ll just be your cousin.”

I looked at him, shocked out of my wits, and noticed he had tears pooling in those breathtaking blue eyes.

“Shut it, Hugh,” I warned him, my voice and my heart so heavy they were about to spill over. How could he think I could just replace him with some stranger, no matter how dashing they were going to be?! Even when someone did think me worthy of their friendship – they would be nothing like my Hugh, yeah? Nothing! There was no one like him out there. No one! No one had his bravery, his mad, wonderful, genius mind… No one had such piercing, intense blue eyes, as if precious starry skies were smiling down at me… No one could give me that incredibly sweet, warm smile that melted something inside of me and just made my heart want to jump out of my chest… No one’s fingers were so comforting, strong, and soothing… holding my hand or threading through my hair gently like in that moment… filling me with some unknown, incredible yearning… There was no one… there never would be.

“I’ll miss you terribly,” I barely made my trembling voice pass my lips. “You’re just… there’s no one like you. How could I want someone other than you? I’d never want one… no one but you, Hugh. You know I’d take you with me if I could, yeah? You think Hogwarts holds any lustre to me without you? I’ll probably get compared to Dad every step of the way… and bullied, when they find out I’m  _ nothing  _ like him. I’ll just end up missing you even more! And I  _ will _ miss you, all right?! Every minute of every day… I’ll even write… I’ll  _ write _ , Hugo, though you know I’m pants at that, too… but I will. But you make damn sure that you’re on that platform when I make it home for holidays, rain or shine, do you hear me? I’ll be home  _ every.bloody.holiday _ , if you’ll have me, until you’ll get tired of me. And you make sure it’s just one bloody year – and not two! You’ve got to! Otherwise… I don’t think… I can bear it…”

I finally lost the battle with my angry, frustrated tears because I was just a hopeless sap that way, and because saying all that really brought it home how much I was going to miss him. He was the one bright, guiding star through my gloomy, scary world that was always a little dark; he was my Hugo, the only one who cared, and I was about to lose him. And that thought just…  _ broke _ me. I started bawling like I was made of water – and to this day I’m still all sorts of embarrassed what a terrible weight I dropped on his shoulders that night. Not only did I share with him how dreadfully frightened and uncomfortable I was going to be without him – I also asked the impossible of him: I asked him to somehow make his Hogwarts letter happen early, as if it was his choice to do so. I knew perfectly well what I was doing; demanding something like this of Hugo… well, it was practically a dare. And Hugo didn’t let me down… he never did.

“I promise,” he said, quietly, simply, as if it was already done, and somehow that firm, absolute magic did the impossible, and my sniffling subsided. Hugo promised. It was just going to be one year – and holidays twice! – I would have to pull through somehow… do my part. He never said much after that, but he held me in that wonderful, heavenly embrace of his, gently threading his fingers through my hair, and I was more than ready to succumb to the illusion that I could have this… that I could keep it.

“So, uhm… how often are you going to write?” he finally mumbled, and the slightly humorous tone of his voice made me smack my fist against his chest playfully.

“Don’t push it, Weasley!” I growled unhappily, knowing that it was going to be a proper labour. “Don’t make me take it back!”

I hated writing, and he knew that. I didn’t even want to do the holiday greeting cards – I never knew what to write or say! – but for him, I was going to write, draw, paint and knit if I had to, just to keep us close.

“Often enough,” I finally sighed, not willing to overestimate myself, but I knew that I would be writing every free minute of every day, even if there was going to be nothing – or the biggest nonsense – to write about. If this was going to be my only connection with him, I would write my fingers to the bloody bone.

But I couldn’t hide a damn thing from my Hugh; he just knew me too well.

“A sentence a day, Allie. One or two, if you must. But I’ll be waiting,” he said simply, and when I felt his lips press into my hair shyly, as if that lost kiss somehow finally found its way back to me, he might as well have sworn me to himself with an Unbreakable Vow.

~

_ Merlin, Al, don’t remind me… That summer and the year that followed were just bloody god-awful… fucking worst in my entire life. I knew there was a chance that I was going to lose you, and it was driving me mental. I’ve never before felt so helpless, and I never want to again. I felt held behind, trapped by my silly age, and there was nothing anyone could do to help me… well, perhaps Mum could, but she was too damn righteous to attempt it. God, I was angry with her! I think I’ve never really got over my resentment that she wouldn’t use her influence to get me into Hogwarts early. _

‘You’re not ready,’ _ she kept telling me.  _ ‘This isn’t only about magic, you also need to be mature… in every way, Hugo.’

_ I mean… obviously, she was right, rationally speaking – but that doesn’t make it any less heartless. At least she had the good sense not to tell me it would be good for us to be apart, though I’m sure she was thinking it. I was already so prickly around her that my magic kept wreaking havoc around the house every time she was around. I mean – what good it was to have a mother who was the Minister for Magic if she wouldn’t do a damn thing to help her son who was clearly miserable?! Dad would have done it, if he could. Dad would have done anything for Rose and I, but she… All those bloody hours she put into her job, robbing us of being a proper family, letting Dad take on all the burden of raising us – she might as well have given something back to us when we needed her! But no, the fucking  _ “good of the society” _ and her upstanding morals always had her  _ “doing the right thing” _ rather than making any of us happy. _

_ And then she had the nerve to act shocked when she finally found out that Dad’s been screwing your father behind her back for years – with all her brains, she couldn’t figure that one out? I knew since I was old enough to know what sex was - and there’s so much more than just sex between them. They weren’t even hiding it that well; she was just never around to see it. And if you ask me, she had it coming. My dad loves yours the way… well, I suppose the way I love you – inside out, with an uncompromising love that made him forget ever saying the words and let your dad have the family he so desperately wanted. And I know for a fact Uncle Harry loves him right back. Your dad is so fucking… essentially…  _ good _ that it must have been a tremendous burden to do something like this behind your mum’s back… behind my mum’s back – but I suppose there was only so much even Harry Potter could take. Dad has always been his Ron, the person he was lost without, the one he never looked to replace, even in when they were apart…  _ “the one he’d miss the most”.

_ I reckon they could no more hold themselves back than we can. Love like this is above comprehension or rules. It’s like trying to fight a storm. Why should anyone attempt something as silly as that? You’d only hurt yourself. The way I see it… fuck morals and rules. It’s not like we’re harming anyone, are we? It’s not like we asked to fall in love… but I would have asked for it, Al, if I knew how. For me, there is nothing better… there is no one better. I’d be lost without you, my Allie. And back then, I nearly was. _

_ I don’t know how I would have survived if Dad hadn’t stepped in. He never told Aunt Ginny that I was behind that calamity with James and the burning broom. He knew it would get me grounded and how unhappy it would make me to be away from you in those last few days before your departure. I reckon he knew my heart better than even I did back then – after all, it was harbouring the same sort of secret his did. I think he’d rather let every broom in that shed burn than see me miserable. And it was a testimony to his love for me that he attempted to talk to me about it, as awkward as he knew it was going to be. _

_ He cornered me that evening, just after dinner; when he volunteered us to clean up the kitchen. I knew something was up – usually Grandma Molly had to bully him into it, and under normal circumstances, he was not beyond attempting to hide under the table when his turn was up. But he must have guessed that this was no time to hold back, so, yeah, I knew it was coming. _

_ As soon as we transported all the dishes to the kitchen, he threw a  _ Colloportus _ at the door and pulled two chairs from under the table. Once we were both sitting, he took my hands into those giant palms of his, just the way he did when I was still only a tiny child. He understands the power of human contact better than any of the other adults I know, and even back then, he knew that if he looked me in the eye, I wouldn’t attempt to lie. He just held onto my hands for a while, trying to come up with the right words, and I could feel his love and worry seeping into our touch. He didn’t even need to speak, I could always read him like an open book. I knew what he was trying to do, and I loved him all the more for it. Poor dad, always trying to make things better… or at least more bearable for everyone. I confess, I didn’t actually expect him to succeed. But, you see – I should have. He’s just… incredibly skilled and resourceful when the circumstances require it, and he’s willing to go all the way for those he loves. And my dad loves me – he never let me doubt that, not even for a second. _

_ “It was you, wasn’t it?” he finally asked, knowing he needed no further explanation. I nodded, because I really didn’t see any point in lying. If he wanted to punish me, he would have done it already. _

_ “Why?” he wanted to know, and I could hear he was hurt and worried. “James could have gotten hurt badly, Hugo. You shouldn’t have put your…  _ skills _ to such a purpose, son.” Yeah… I couldn’t even fool him the way I could fool Mum: he knew very well I could control my outbursts of magic better than I was willing to admit. _

_ “I wasn’t thinking,” I murmured. “I just acted on impulse. He was teasing Al, Dad! Again! As if Al’s not shy and defenceless enough as it is. But Jamie always picks on him, and everyone just bloody stands by and lets it happen! And I couldn’t. I…” I closed my mouth. I couldn’t let on how deeply I resented anyone who was willing to hurt you. But he must have guessed anyway. _

_ “Hugo… pumpkin…” For a moment he seemed lost for words. “You care for Al an awful lot, don’t you?” he finally said gently, and I just nodded, my lips trembling and my shoulders stiff, as I was barely keeping it together. _

_ “It must feel like he’s leaving you behind… as if you’re losing him,” he murmured, as if to himself, and hearing those words spoken – my worst fears acknowledged and recognised – I just lost it, yeah? I was only a nine-year-old boy, who was about to lose the one person who gave colour to his existence, and I started sobbing like there was no tomorrow. _

_ “Oh, Hugh,” he whispered, and a moment later he scooped me into his lap as if I was once again a wee child, and he could take away all the anxiety and anger I was always so full of. His arms closed around me protectively, and I sobbed all my fears and sadness into his shoulder. I don’t think I was ever so weak again in my life… and I knew I’d have to be strong for us later… but with my dad, I could just be a child, scared and hurt as I was. And he let me cry, as if he knew that was somehow going to clean and heal me; he didn’t even tell me that I shouldn’t. When the worst of my sobbing subsided, he just held my head close to his chest, his big palms shielding me from the world, and when he leaned down and pressed a kiss into my hair, I felt a tiny bit better already, as if he took some of my burden away just by being there. _

_ “You’ve got that passionate Weasley heart and soul,” he told me quietly. “We don’t give a damn about right and wrong when we… care about someone.” He carefully avoided the word “love” as if he didn’t want embarrass me more than I’d already embarrassed myself. “You must know… no one can take this from you… no one. Not even Al; not even when he leaves. And I know for a fact that there is no way in hell Al Potter is ever giving up on you,” he said with such firm conviction that I sniffed out a grateful, pained little laugh of pure relief and gratitude for all the unrelenting support and trust he had in us. “He’s Harry’s son through and through, he wouldn’t know how to give up on you if he tried.” _

_ “Yeah,” I said, still sounding as dejected as I felt. “But he’ll be gone for a whole year. A whole year, Dad! Maybe two…” My voice started to shake at the terrible thought. He didn’t say anything, he just squeezed me closer once more and kissed the top of my head again. _

_ “Shhhh… I won’t have that gloomy attitude, pumpkin. A year we said – and we have to keep our hopes up that a year is all it’s going to be. And you’ll see – it will be over in a jiffy. You can come over to the shop and help me out, just like you’ve always wanted… We’ll invent some crazy stuff together and send Al every bloody thing to test on his Hogwarts mates, how does that sound? And then there’s going to be holidays – twice, even! And you’ll write to each other, won’t you?” _

_ “You know Al hates to write,” I sighed, my voice still tired and shaky. “And those bloody owls are so slow. I won’t be there for him when he needs me. And he’s going to need me, Dad. He’s so bloody…  _ gentle _. If only Mum was more reasonable…” I hissed, once again clutching my fists in a sudden surge of impotent anger, but he only shook his head. _

_ “There’s nothing your mother could do… at least not this year – I know that for a fact because, uhm… uh… Harry and I… we made her try yesterday,” he coughed almost as if he was embarrassed for having blackmailed his wife, but I could’ve just hugged him for it. “Harry was worried sick about all the nightmares Al’s been having lately, and I… well, just look at you! Pale as a sheet, and that kicked-puppy expression on your face... this isn’t even you! So I might have guilted her a little into trying,” my Dad, the chess-master extraordinaire smiled, and just knowing he was willing to do that for me made me feel a little better. _

_ “She went on forever about how she couldn’t be seen asking for special privilege for her son, abusing her position, but in the end, she did it because she loves you, Hugh, yeah? Just… go a little easy on her and stop trying to cause Armageddon every time she’s around, all right?” he looked at me seriously, and I just nodded, not giving a damn because if she really cared, she would have done it on her own already. _

_ “So… it didn’t work out,” I said flatly, and dad sighed. _

_ “Sadly, Headmistress McGonagall was rather unrelenting,” he mumbled. “How there is still so much spirit in the old hag, I’ll never know! I swear it took her about three seconds to make us feel as if we were merely a bunch of students who ought to be serving detention for bothering her with such nonsense. But she promised to at least consider it next year – it has been done before that a child was admitted a bit early, when the birth-year was considered…Anyway, there is a chance, love. Let’s just keep that in mind, all right?”  _

_ I nodded tiredly, my heart still heavy and my spirit gloomy, but just knowing that at least I had Dad on my side, put me at peace, made me feel a tad better, and somehow stronger. But just as I climbed out of his lap and tried to wipe my face clean, he asked thoughtfully, almost matter-of-factly: _

_ “You mentioned the owls being slow… Would it mean anything if there was a faster way to communicate with Al? You know, remind him a little that you were still here, missing him, perhaps be there for him, at least in time if not in place, when he needs you?” _

_ I just stared for a moment, frozen, my mind instantly filled to the brim with all the wonderful possibilities of being able to share things with Al… as they happened… no frustrating delays or painful waiting for a reply – and then I just launched myself at him and hugged him. _

_ “Yes, it would! Are you joking? Of course it would! It would mean the world, Dad! It would make all the difference! But how can you –?” _

_ “Well, I’ve had this idea in mind for a while,” he chuckled, and I could tell how pleased he was with my unbound, immediate outburst of appreciation. “You know that e-post… e-thingy… the Muggles use? Obviously, Muggle technology won’t work at Hogwarts, but I was thinking something along those lines… We’d need something like that bloody diary… perhaps Malfoy would know… fascinating magic… – but not a word of it to anyone, especially not Al!” he warned me, suddenly sounding panicked. “Your Aunt Ginny might have a bit of an issue with, uhm, instant two-way communication. If I manage, it would just be for you. A prototype of sorts…” _

_ “Thank you, Dad,” I interrupted him, wrapping my arms around him in a fierce hug, though I had no idea what he was on about. Merlin, how I loved him in that moment! He was just putting his best out for me, wasn’t he? And just like that, I was filled with new hope and simply… elated. There was a chance you and I wouldn’t be cut off from each other, and there was a good chance I would follow you to Hogwarts soon – well, not soon enough, but sooner than after two dreadful years. It was all I needed, all we needed. A bit of hope. _

_ And I got that. I got hope galore that very same evening – and I didn’t even have to wait for Dad’s secret experiment. I got it when you lay in my arms that night, that tanned, smooth skin of yours so deliciously hot, that thin, wiry body of yours so incredibly fragile, pressed into mine tightly, and it felt like the only right thing in the world. And when I told you I’d consider murdering anyone who was willing to hurt you, I felt the shudder go through you – and then my miracle happened. You pressed the world’s smallest, shyest, most scared little kiss onto my collar bone – and that was it. That was all it took. _

_ I instantly knew that this was what I needed. You, in my embrace every evening, your warm, fragile body seeking shelter with mine, making me feel invincible, as if I could stand up to the whole world for you, those green eyes drinking in my every word, smiling at me, making me feel worth a million galleons... perhaps even more of those sweet butterfly kisses that took my breath away. I loved it so much, I'd be more than happy to give you a few of my own in return. I couldn’t say that back then, Al, my mind was too innocent to know how to put it into words – but a monstrous desire, my consuming madness, was born that evening. I realised I never wanted to be free of you. I could never get enough of you. I decided that evening I was going to keep you, whatever it took. You were going to be my Allie one day, no matter how long it took. _

_ Does that scare you, Al? Does it send sweet shivers of desire down your body knowing how much you’re wanted? It should, Al. It should scare you and make you hot and bothered. It’s what I want. It makes me hard just writing it down. I know that’s not what you hoped for. But this is how I feel, this is who I am: even the memory of that innocent desire, that pure need to own you, makes me ache with delicious tension and need. I  _ crave _ you, Al. Why aren’t you here? It’s where you belong. _

~


	5. Chapter 5

My Hugo saved me that day, just like he saves me every other day when I wake up feeling useless, with no strength to stand on my own. He must have known he wasn’t going to be able to be there through the worst of it, but he made damn sure I could feel his incredible magic stretch across the distance, and it was that quiet, unspoken love that saved me.

I barely slept a minute the night before my departure to Hogwarts. I suspect most kids can’t sleep very well from excitement, or perhaps from some level of anxiety, but for me the day before me was little more than pure dread. I knew things were expected of me; I knew I was going to be compared to Dad – perhaps even to James – every step of the way, and I’d come up short. But that was something I was ready for. I couldn’t impress anyone at home as it was, so how was school going to be any different?

But what I  _ wasn’t _ ready for – what I had no experience of – what I was dreading above all, was all that time I was meant to spend away from my Hugh. What would happen to us in all that time that seemed endless? Would we indeed grow apart? How would we change? Would we still know each other as we always had – like the back of our hands and hardly needing any words between us? Would time and distance rob me of my only true ally? Would our bond still be there? That thought alone sent me into a sheer frenzy. I knew for myself that I would never be able to let him go. Not only did I not make friends easily – I didn’t want any. I wanted him. Hugo. In my darkest hour, I would always close my eyes and think  _ “What would Hugh do?” _ or  _ “Don’t panic, Al. Hugo will be here soon. He’ll make it all right.” _

And now I would have no such comfort. Sure, we promised to write to each other – but those damn owls always took so long, and they were such a bother! Besides, what could I write about that wouldn’t be dead boring and would have a touch of sincerity? I wouldn’t be able to write that I missed him like mad, that I never stopped thinking about that kiss I gave him, and that I wanted to do it again – god, no! I wouldn’t be able to put that onto the parchment and risk him opening it in front of everyone else – and someone else reading how embarrassingly weak I was… I couldn’t risk just anyone seeing my heart’s deepest desires.

I barely managed to get any sleep that night, tossing and turning fitfully, waking up with a madly beating heart, and a near-suffocating feeling of panic flooding over me. After hours of torment, I was genuinely so desperate that I contemplated running away from home.

But then the knock came – just a soft rap on the door, and Dad stuck his head in the room.

“Albus, are you sleeping? Are you having another one of your nightmares, son? I have someone here who desperately wants to see you before you leave. Desperately enough to Floo in, practically in the middle of the night. I wonder if he told anyone where he was going….”

He didn‘t have to say more. I must have smelled my Hugh, or sensed him or something. As exhausted as I was, I sat up in my bed as abruptly as if I had spring built into my back, and in the next moment, a fiery lightning bolt crashed into me from the door, and I was flooded with exhilarating, luxurious warmth. My Hugh sensed my misery and came to my rescue… and fuck all norms about proper time and behaviour because that was just how wonderful my Hugh was. As soon as he put his arms around me – hugging me as tightly as he could – I felt like bawling all over again.

God, it was heaven! I got to lean my face into the crook of his neck, and inhale the delicious, familiar scent of him, and a desperate wail made of my suppressed emotions rose up inside me, threatening to tear my chest open. I felt my own fingers clawing at his back because I wanted to meld with him, and take the comfort his presence gave me to the end of the world with me. To this day, I don’t know how I managed to hold back sobs of relief and gratitude.

“Uhm, I’m just going to… er, leave you boys alone…” Dad murmured, sounding strangely moved, even a tad sad. “Don’t stay up too long… Albus has a long day in front of him, Hugo. I’ll let Ron know where you are.”

I reckon Dad was the one person who understood Hugo’s motives and my despair, and he didn’t have the heart to turn him away. We just sat hugging on my bed for a while, even after Dad was gone, and for a short time I forgot my misery and I allowed myself to be perfectly happy. With my head resting in the crook of his neck, breathing in the gorgeous smell of him, I couldn’t help but remember that this was the exact spot I pressed that confusing kiss on days ago. Merlin, I couldn’t help myself… but I was tempted again. His skin was deliciously hot, and I could feel his heightened pulse beating just at the edge of my lips… and I had no other way of showing him how much his presence meant to me. But this longing was far from just physical. For me, it was deeply emotional. This was my Hugo, and I’d never adored him more. I craved to show him I wanted to belong – and I scared myself with how intense my feelings were.

I didn’t dare kiss him again. I was already aware that two boys kissing was not perceived quite the same as a girl and a boy doing it - James and his colourful description of the life and scandals at Hogwarts had unwittingly taken care of that. And we weren’t just boys, we were  _ cousins _ , and I had a faint idea that this wasn’t the way cousins were supposed to behave. And as wrecked as I was, I didn’t trust myself with Hugo because… I knew he didn’t give a damn about any of that. He didn’t care about us being boys, or cousins, or too close – he just cared about making me feel better, and I couldn’t use him like that. But did I want to?  _ Oh, yes. _ I knew that it wasn’t right to go on with it… but for me, it really was. I was close to the one person I had deep, intense feelings for, and though I couldn’t put a name to what I felt for him back then, I knew those feelings were precious. But I held myself back because I was a cowardly little shit back then… and I still am.

“My back is getting cramped, Al Potter,” he finally murmured into my ear. “And your dad ordered us to sleep. Think we could lie down?”

I barked an exhausted, relieved laugh because honestly – I didn’t want anything more than to sleep. And I did. As soon as he curled up behind me and his arm wrapped around me protectively, my eyelids felt as heavy as lead. In Hugo’s arms, I slept like a baby. For a few hours at least, I forgot the gloomy, scary day before me. But the second dad woke me up for my “big day”, I knew he was gone. I was practically shivering without his presence, and it wasn’t because of a chilly morning. Suddenly all the bleakness of the day – the year – before me, returned with a vengeance.

“Ron came for him,” dad told me, when he saw the frantic, haunted look in my eyes, and his voice was not without pity. “Of course the silly boy told no one where he went! Ron picked him up half an hour ago to make sure he’s ready to go to the station – it’s also Rosie’s big day today, remember? Oh, and your Freckly left you something…”

I blushed a little – not everyone knew my nickname for Hugo – but in spite of my gloomy disposition, my heart started to beat faster when he delivered a thin, square package into my hands. I couldn’t help it – a short, pained chuckle escaped me at the sight of it: it was completely spello-taped all around, and it came with a big, bright florescent note on top: FOR AL! (DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, JAMES!!!) IMPORTANT!!! DO NOT OPEN BEFORE EVENING!!

Merlin… Hugo was so… ten years old… almost. The wrapping was ghastly, and yet so adorably… Hugh, that I had laughter and tears fighting for an appearance at the sight of it. God, I was going to miss him!

“Well, I reckon all kinds of biblical horrors await should you ignore the instruction – considering who this came from – so I think it’s best if you put it in the trunk, son,” Dad advised me, and I noticed him watching me intently. He rarely had time for us on a regular day – a bit like Aunt Hermione, really – but he was not the youngest Head Auror in the recorded history for nothing. Dad was as shrewd as they came, and I had no illusions that he wouldn’t be able to see under my mask of false bravery.

“Are you looking forward to this at all, Albus?” he asked me unexpectedly, and some strange defiance I rarely felt made me look him in the eye and shake my head.

“I’m terrified,” I told him honestly. “I’m not you. I have a hundred times the knowledge of what I’m getting into and none of your troubles to face – but also none of your skill, and none of your freedom to just be… me. Al Potter. Not Harry Potter’s son, but me. As crap and good-at-nothing as I am.”

“Albus…” he started, visibly shaken, but it was too little, too late and I didn’t want him to go probing into my head. I already had someone who knew me inside out, and I was about to be separated from him.

“Let’s just go,” I said quickly, not willing to dwell on my misery, but for once my dad, who always seemed to be in a hurry, surprised me by pulling on my sleeve and slowing me down.

“For the record,” he said in a slightly shaky voice. “I happen to disagree with your self-assessment – I think you’re good at a great many things. I know you’re at an age when the opinion of your parents means very little, but I happen to think you’re a wonderful boy, Albus. I’ve never met a more compassionate person, and you’re patient and attentive… and quite bright, if I may say so. You’ve got a great, colourful imagination, you’re sensitive, and you really  _ think _ about things, always trying to get to the bottom of them to see them as they are. So… hardly anything like me – and I don’t expect you to be. I know I don’t really remember my mother, your grandmother Lily…” he said with that haunted sadness at the bottom of his eyes that pulled on my heartstrings, “but I imagine she’d was a bit like you, perhaps just a tad more resilient. Everyone's got their shortcomings, son, and your own always seem like the worst - but we all love and appreciate you, as you are,” he said gently, yet with so much conviction it took my breath away.

Seriously, Dad… I never even knew he noticed me… much, and half of the time I thought he just didn’t care… or had too many people to care about – it’s clear who I got this “carrying the weight of the whole world” from, yeah? But then he went and said something like that, and it just made my heart tremble. He never spoke to me this way; I didn’t even know how to reply.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said awkwardly, and when he hugged my fiercely, it felt right, and I finally felt a bit lighter inside.

“And you’re going to get your Freckly to follow you in a year,” he said in a completely casual voice, but there was a small smile pulling on the corner of his mouth, and I hugged him.

“Thank you,” I said, this time genuinely grateful, but he just snorted.

“Don’t thank me,” he said with a smirk. “Give Hugo Weasley a year to torment his mother into listening to him – I wonder who he gets it from?! – and I imagine there will be a ministerial decree signed that Hugo Weasley is absolutely required to follow Albus Potter to Hogwarts as soon as possible so the harassed Minister for Magic may have some peace at last.”

And that, I confess, made me laugh. Dad could be quite funny sometimes. But all my cheerfulness evaporated when we entered Platform 9 ¾ at last. It was ridiculously crowded, and my heart sank when I realised Hugo was nowhere to be seen. We’d barely shown up when a blond, aging woman practically jumped in front of us, and the flashing of a camera nearly blinded me. Oh, Merlin’s lame dog… It was that dreadful reporter Rita Skeeter James warned me about, and it took her about five seconds to make me really edgy. Even though dad asked her politely to give us some space, she kept squealing excitedly how remarkably like Dad I was, and shooting questions at me with such speed I wasn’t able to answer a single one.

“Let’s just go,” Mum hissed, but the old hag kept following us down the platform, until someone called her name:

“Ms. Skeeter!”

I’d know that voice anywhere. I stopped abruptly as if nailed to the floor, and indeed – when I turned around, there was my Hugh, smiling, with a small backpack on his back and the deadliest cold look in those piercing blue eyes.

“Hugo, don’t!” my Dad said with a warning in his voice, quickly realising, as I had, that Skeeter was not going to like what was coming her way.

“Hugo?” the blond hag said hungrily. “That wouldn’t be Hugo Weasley – Minister Granger’s son?”

“The very one,” he said sweetly, and to anyone who knew him, that smile sent shivers down their spine. “And I’m such a fan. Dad won’t let me read all of your work, sadly, but I’ve read enough. You’re a bit of a celebrity yourself, I reckon. Would you care to take a picture with me and a friend of mine, for my personal journal?”

“Well, certainly, young man,” the woman smiled a toothy grin, and she seemed very obviously flattered. “A Weasley with a sense for good press relations, who would’ve thought?”

“Hugo!” Uncle Ron tried to reach us through the crowd, looking rather frantic, but whatever he was about to do, he was going to be too late. Skeeter was already standing near Hugo, her bony, claw-like hands around his shoulder, smiling and ready for the photo.

“Not yet,” she hissed at the mousy old man who had pursued us so relentlessly with the camera before. “Where is your friend?” she asked Hugo, without ever losing her harpy smile. “Is he going to join us? Shall we wait for a bit?”

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Hugo said sweetly, and took a large green cocoon out of his small backpack. I had no idea what it was, but it instantly made her eyes bulge behind her glasses.

“Shit,” Dad hissed, but she was already gasping frantically:

“What… where did you get this, you mad child?! Do you even know what that is?! Get it away from me!”

“Oh, doesn’t this friend of mine look every bit like the Swooping Evil?” Hugo said calmly. “I’m sure you saw it last week – it was a part of the Fantastic Beasts exhibition brought to England by Rolf Scamander, our family friend. This beast is bloody brilliant. It’s… what’s the word…  _ an encephalophage _ … it means it eats brains. Oh, and its poison is very useful in Memory charms. Now, as soon as that camera starts flashing, it might freak out, and then all bets are off. I wonder if a beast like this would settle for your memories… or your brain? They’re majestic in action – have you actually seen them? I wouldn’t move if I were you. Nope, not even that quill of yours. Honestly, why don’t you just drop it?”

And indeed, Skeeter did as she was told, looking absolutely ashen and still as a statue. Hugo quickly picked it up from the floor and stuffed it in his little backpack, before he approached the man with the camera.

“With your permission,” he said smugly, and took it away from him – only to drop it a second later with a loud bang, making us all jump on the spot.

“Oops,” my Freckly said when white smoke came out of the remains. The green cocoon swayed dangerously in his hand, making Skeeter squeal.

“Hugo! My god, you impossible scamp… what’s going on here?” Uncle Ron finally reached us, and Dad quickly raised his hand to stop him.

“Don’t. He’s got one of the Scamander’s beasts with him…  _ the Swooping Evil _ , you’ve heard of it? You wouldn’t happen to know how he would get his hands on such a thing?” Dad said as calmly as he could – but I think we all froze for a second when Uncle Ron’s arm moved as fast as lightning and he snatched the green cocoon from Hugo’s outstretched hand.

“This?” Uncle Ron asked incredulously, looking utterly confused. “ _ This _ is a coconut painted green in a stocking, with chunks of broken hazelnuts glued on. This nightmare of a child was grounded a couple of days ago, and he spent the whole day staring at the  _ Fantastic Beasts _ exhibition catalogue and working on this thing – I was kind of impressed, actually, that he was willing to learn something for once. And I thought he did a bloody good job of this… what did you say it was? Why would you be frightened of a painted coconut?”

It wasn’t until Dad’s shoulders began to shake in a poor attempt to keep back his rather hysterical laughter that it dawned on me that Hugo had once again pulled one of his infamous pranks – no doubt to protect me. James wouldn’t shut up about how annoying Skeeter was, and Hugh must have known she’d drive me to the end of my rope. Hugo, truly Aunt Hermione’s son, had thought of everything, hadn’t he? I had to fight to keep the tears of gratitude from flooding my eyes. As always, he was just… perfect.

“What kind of a monster are you?!” Skeeter screeched suddenly. Dad and Uncle Ron whipped their wands out before she had even closed her mouth. “You’ve ruined my camera! I can’t get a front page without any pictures! Oh, just you wait, you demented little demon! I’m going to tell the world all about you and…”

“Are you, now?” Hugo said calmly. “And how will you write it? I’ve got your quill, and I’m quite ready to see how much damage it can take before it meets the same unfortunate end as your damn camera! And even if you attempt it – will you start with the information that you were pranked by a nine-year-old? Now, how incompetent is that going to make you seem? First, no pictures, and then you’ll make a laughingstock of yourself. Be my guest, lady.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite so red in the face, and it didn’t help one bit that Dad’s restraint finally broke, and he started to giggle like a three-year-old.

“You – were always – my favourite – nephew, Hugo…” he barely managed to fit in between the howls of laughter, and Skeeter looked about ready to explode.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry…” Mum barked, but I saw that the corners of her mouth were turned upwards, as if she was barely keeping in a hearty laugh herself.

“Now, as one reporter to another…” she turned towards Skeeter, and when I saw that determined look in her eyes, I knew she was going to handle this like a boss. “Why don’t you just tell your readers that you were asked to give Harry Potter’s family some privacy for once, upon his  _ explicit _ request, and you were  _ gracious _ enough to oblige. Not that anyone’s going to buy it, but it might save you your job,” Mum shrugged, and the cold glint in her eyes said  _ “or else…” _ loud and clear.

“Right!” Skeeter hissed, trying very hard to gain some control over the situation. “Very well, then. But you owe me one! And as for you, you little  _ nutter _ – ”

“That’s Mr. Little Nutter to you,” Hugo said coolly. “Respect is everything… you hag. Though, I honestly couldn’t stand it if  _ you _ had a good opinion of me.”

She didn’t even have to look around to see how many people were laughing at her – she could most certainly hear them – so she clearly decided to do the best she could under the circumstances. With a fuming expression on her face, she wildly motioned for her confused photographer to follow her, and cut through the crowd like a hot knife through butter.

She had barely disappeared when Hugo tore away from his dad and ran across the platform to hug me. As soon as I felt the wiry body wrap around me and that familiar, comforting body heat envelop me, I had tears in my eyes – and this time, there was no stopping them.

“Thank – you – ” I sobbed into the crook of his neck, trying desperately not to completely liquefy on the spot, but I honestly couldn’t care less how many people saw me and what a fool I was making of myself. I was about to lose my Hugh, and I couldn’t see an inch past that. I forgot about the crowd, about James’s taunting that was sure to come, about how strange and improper it must have seemed to anyone observing us that I was willing to put my feelings on display so openly for a boy who was my cousin. What did they know about love that ran so deeply one could barely imagine existing without it? At that moment, they could all fuck off. I only cared about him, about my Hugo being there for me.

“I’m sorry I was late,” he whispered into my hair, and I could tell from his strained voice that he was barely keeping back a tidal wave of emotions as well. “Mum almost didn’t let me come when she found out about my… nighttime adventure, but for once, Dad put his foot down. I should’ve come earlier and ambushed that damn harpy of a reporter before she hassled you… but I couldn’t. Please don’t cry… Have you got my package, then?”

“In the bag… unopened… just like you wrote on that silly note…” I sniffled, struggling very hard not to think that in a few minutes I was going to have to give up the safety of his arms around me, the delicious smell of his hair, and that…  _ wholeness _ I felt when we hugged. I didn’t want to think about surrendering to the hollow emptiness I was going to feel without him. So I just closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of him, hoping against hope for a miracle that would let me keep him near.

And then I felt his warm lips touch my cheek shyly, briefly, invisibly to anyone but myself, almost as if Hugo Weasley could not keep himself from doing it – and it nearly made my heart explode. It was nothing more than a peck, but there was no denying it, no going back from it – he did it deliberately, and it was a quiet, undeniable acknowledgement of the bond between us. I nearly started bawling all over again.

“Listen to me, Albus… Allie… please don’t cry,” he whispered, sounding as desperate and frantic as I felt. “It’s only three measly months, and you’ll come back home to me for holidays, all right? And you’ll see – it’s not… it’s not all lost, yeah? No one will keep us apart.  _ No one. _ We’re unbreakable, Allie. Remember that.  _ Unbreakable _ .”

“Unbreakable,” I choked out, still gulping down tears as well as I could, but strangely, feeling a little bit more courageous. I liked that word. Unbreakable. That’s what we were. We were just going to have to prove it. And him, calling me Allie… after he gave me that miracle peck on my cheek… well, you already know what that did to me. I tried to smile through my tears as best I could.

The loud whistle of the Hogwarts Express startled us both, and at the same time I felt my dad’s hand on my shoulder.

“It’s time, Albus,” he said gently, and I felt as if his hand weighed a tonne. As soon as I let Hugo go, I felt… open, vulnerable and crippled, as if there was a giant hole where my heart once was.

“I’ll write,” I said feebly, and it didn’t help to see Hugo’s lips press together to stop them from trembling. He was always so brave, but one could spot from the top of a mountain how hard he had it.

“Yeah…” he said in a tiny voice that sounded nothing like his usual assertive self. “Make sure that you do. Or I’ll bribe Rosie to hex you.”

Now, that was such a Hugo thing to say, that a small, broken laughter escaped me in spite of my sorrow. I let Dad drag me away, but I kept glancing back towards the lone little figure I left so much of my strength and heart with. I longed to run up the train and lean out of the window to wave at him, perhaps to touch him one last time, but there was no escape from saying goodbye to my family first.

“No mad adventures!” Mum said sternly, but her eyes were soft when she fixed my clothes and hugged me fiercely once again. “And don’t let James provoke you into anything dangerous!”

“Your trunk is already on the train. Uhm, try to stay away from the hospital wing,” Dad mumbled, patting my back, and then he added quietly almost as a second thought. “I love you, son. As you are. Never forget.”

“Make sure you do plenty of reading and dress warmly,” Aunt Hermione stated primly, and kissed both my cheeks. “And for Merlin’s sakes, don’t forget to write Hugo, or he’ll drive me barmy,” she rolled her eyes and smiled almost sadly.

“Al, my lad…” Uncle Ron hugged me like only a Weasley could, and I noticed he also had tears in his eyes. “Watch out over my Rosie, will you?” he said, and added cheekily: “Or I won’t trust you with Hugo next year.”

I couldn’t help but smile at him. His unwavering belief that Hugo would be there to join me next year was like a balm to my injured soul. I quickly climbed onto the train and ran along it to find the first empty compartment so I could rush to the window.

Hugo was there like a flash as if he was watching the windows like a hawk, and the sight of those big, brilliant blue eyes looking at me anxiously melted my heart into goo.

“Write,” he said as his narrow fingers wrapped around mine one last time, and I nodded and exhaled a heavy, shaky breath.

“Unbreakable,” I whispered, because that word gave me courage beyond any other, and I saw a beautiful smile light up his pretty, freckled face like sunlight. With another loud whistle, the Hogwarts Express started moving, and he held my hand for a few more precious seconds, running on the platform until it ended and we had to let go. I waved as long as I thought he could see me, and then I just collapsed onto the bench and I sat there, frozen and numb, barely registering anything.

I can’t really remember most of my ride to Hogwarts that day; it’s as if my tired, scared brain tried to shut off. But then Rose wandered in with a blond boy on her heels – and everything changed again. She dragged my trunk into the compartment and barked at me to be more responsible, but at the sight of the miserable look on my face, her expression softened, and she just sighed a little in resignation.

“Want some company? This is Scorpius Malfoy,” she pointed to the skinny blond boy who kept glancing at her with adoring eyes. “The one Dad told us not to be friends with. As if!” she made a face, forcing a smile out of me in spite of my numbness, because if defiance had a name, it would be Rose Weasley.

“Nah,” I said truthfully. “I’m good. Thanks for the trunk.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I know you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached,” she chuckled lightly, and I smiled once again, this time as gratefully as I could.

“So, if you want to mope on your own, we’ll just be going,” she said, because Hermione Granger’s daughter was no-nonsense. “Our trunks are in a different compartment. Don’t forget to take something from the trolley… so you can write Hugh all about it,” she added with a small smile, and – oh, blast… I guess everyone knew.

“Who’s Hugh?” I heard the blond boy ask with interest when they turned to leave.

“Hugo, my younger brother. Terrible menace, but Al loves him to bits,” she explained, and that casual remark was like a punch to my stomach. She put into words what I simply… couldn’t. I loved Hugo to bits.

“They got used to living in each other’s pockets, and Al’s not taking being on his own very well,” I heard her voice, kind for once, disappearing down the corridor. “We need to make sure people are nice to him...”

At this point, I got up and made sure the door was shut properly.

I appreciated her kindness, but at the moment I couldn’t handle talking to anyone – especially not about Hugo and not so… casually. People just… they just didn’t  _ understand _ . Rose’s off-hand remark about me loving Hugo to bits caught me off-guard. Love… was such a grand word, wasn’t it? I mean, obviously you were supposed to love your family, and no one would have sounded strange saying they loved their mum. But loving one’s cousin… that was just… could anyone say that without appearing… strange?

That was the gist of the problem, I realised. I never thought of Hugo as my cousin. Obviously, I knew that’s how people saw us, and we were expected to get along. But what I felt for Hugo was not the same kind of benign, acceptable affection I felt for Rose… or James… or even Mum and Dad. It was… overwhelming… almost like searing pain – so deep it barely let me breathe. It was so intense it scared me sometimes, but it was the kind of love I could not deny or control… love I didn’t know how to live without. I couldn’t even imagine having the same kind of mad feelings for anyone else. So love it was. All other kinds of affection could go and get another name if they liked – this was love. It fit the description perfectly.

It should have confused me to finally be able to give what I felt for Hugo a name – but it didn’t. It felt like a relief, and it gave me comfort. I guess Dad was right about me always wanting to get to the bottom of things. And loving Hugo… I sighed quietly. It was all right as long as I didn’t tell anyone. Oh yes, even back then I realised I would never be able to say it out loud. Perhaps not even to him… no, definitely not to him – my Freckly wouldn’t know what to do with grand words… but deep down inside, I knew he realised it was there before I did. My Hugo always existed in a world that knew only the simplest truth.

I didn’t realise at that time what a burden it would become to keep love like this one to myself. I was too innocent, too childish to consider what it meant to only love one person… for life. I didn’t think ahead to consider that my Hugo wouldn’t always remain the cute little freckly blue-eyed wonder I first felt that shocking surge of love for – but would grow up to be a gorgeous young man, whose stunning good looks, distinct personality, and rebel-charisma pulled boys and girls towards him like moths to the fire. How was I supposed to know that he’d be swarmed by people who craved his attention? People I would have to compete with, people who would only ever see me as his cousin.

But fortunately, I didn’t know any of that back then. For that day, knowing that I loved my Hugo felt like a precious little secret that kept me warm on the inside, and kept me going even when I didn’t feel like I really had a purpose.

~

_ Goddammit, Al, I wish you’d stop talking about me as if I was special… as if I was too good for you. I barely did enough that day! I wanted to stay with you until the morning so badly; I wanted to give you my present myself, be there for you when you opened it, tell you – and show you – what it did. But Dad came to get me and I knew there would be hell to pay if I didn’t go. He wouldn’t mind me staying, but Mum… well, you know Mum. Doesn’t care much about anything until she decides that she does, and then it’s her way or no way. So I left with him to avoid putting him in Mum’s line of fire. _

_ But I wanted to stay – god, how I wanted to stay! Even when I was at home, I could feel your anxiety, as if I was with you in that unhappy place you find yourself in when the world becomes too much to bear, and at some point I just couldn’t take anymore. I wasn’t made for lying around and doing nothing, not when it came to you and your sorrow, I wasn’t! I sneaked out – it was going to be just a few minutes, yeah? – and found you just the way I knew I would. Miserable, sleepless, terrified. How could I just leave? But then I thought: fuck it. If I’m going to land myself another house-arrest, it might as well be for something. So I stayed as long as I could. _

_ You know, I barely sleep when you’re not around… I don’t need much rest, and it’s kind of pointless if I have no one to wrap around. I’ve got no purpose without you. With you by my side, however, everything is so easy. I usually fall asleep before you do, and I love waking up beside you. But that night, I didn’t sleep at all. I just watched you fall asleep, watched those wrinkles of anxiety finally smooth out, and tried to make my body remember the shape of you. I was going to miss you so much, I couldn’t waste that night on sleeping. I could have just laid there forever and watched you breathe, felt the fragile bones of your back move against my chest at a peaceful pace, enjoyed your warm, moist breath tickling my skin and making my heart ache, and I would have been perfectly happy. You’re my vision of heaven, Allie. _

_ But then Dad showed up, and I had to go – but not before sneaking a present for you up to Uncle Harry for safekeeping. I knew it would be delivered to you safely; your dad was always our ally. He knows all there is to know about forbidden love, heartbreak, and impossible choices. _

_ But when I got home, Mum was up, and she was a Fury. She shouted loud enough to wake people in bloody China – apparently I was ruining my sister’s big day before it even began – and if it was down to her, I’d still be grounded today. Dad just said later that she was scared because I disappeared, and tired, but I know what it was: she disapproved of how close we were – hell, she might even have been jealous of our bond for all I know! – and that was her way of saying it. Well, shouting it, really. I wasn’t allowed to go and see you off next day. I was… livid. I swear my magic got so erratic and pent up that the house was shaking. _

_ But then Dad stepped in – and I’d never seen him like this. When he said:  _ “I need to talk to you, Hermione. In private,” _ he seemed sad and angry at the same time, but I’d never seen such a fierce look in his eyes before. _

_ You know how Uncle Harry always hints at the epic fights my parents used to have back at school – but we had yet to see one since Dad always just rolls his eyes and backs off? Well, he didn’t this time. They must have put a  _ Muffliato _ on or something, but I could still hear Dad howling at some point: _

“You’re never bloody home, are you? And when you are, all you do is punish him! He’s going to end up hating you, he is – he’s already sure you don’t love him one bit! You’re always so full of compliments for Rose, but you’ve got nothing but scorn for Hugo! What is his big fault? He looks a little too much like me? He wears his heart on the sleeve? He thinks with his own head? What?! Why the hell is he not allowed to see Al off?! You know he adores him! Oh, I spoil him too much?! Don’t you dare tell me I spoil him when you’ve all but left me alone to handle them! You’ve got no say in what any of them does when you refuse to be a part of this family as a mother should! And you’re hardly a mother to our kids, Hermione! Having a career and all that… it’s all fine, but you weren’t very honest in wanting a family, were you?! You should bloody apologise to all three of us for always putting your damn ambition first!”

_ Seriously, I didn’t know he had it in him. He  _ shredded _ Mum. He didn’t even come back to the living room, he just Disapparated from the kitchen where they had held their ‘talk’, and we all knew where he was going. All these years, my dad only ever had one refuge: Uncle Harry. Your dad would drop any bloody case he was handling to sort him out, just like I would throw it all to the dogs to make you feel better. Mum, however, emerged from the kitchen half an hour later, and she had clearly been crying. She wouldn’t even look at me at first when she said: _

_ “Your father wants me to let you know you’re allowed to go and say your goodbye to Albus anyway. Apparently, it doesn’t matter what I think. But I only have your best interest in mind, Hugo!” she finally looked at me, and I could see that she was certain she was doing the right thing. “You can’t be so very attached to Albus, darling. It isn’t healthy… and at some point he’s going to want to be with other people… have other friends and his own family away from you. You can’t just…” _

_ “No he’s not,” I hissed at her angrily because her damn rationality always pissed me off. “Al is mine.”  _

_ “He isn’t  _ yours _ ,” she said angrily. “You’re talking like a nine-year-old who has no life experience! Do you think I thought I’d be married to your father when I was nine? I didn’t even know I was a witch! No one knows what life will bring, Hugo! Al could go and find a new best friend tomorrow for all we know.” _

_ Now, that was just damn cruel and unnecessary – and I’m pretty sure she knew it. She just wanted to hurt me the way Dad hurt her by throwing a bucket of truth into her face; she wanted to punish me for Dad taking my side once again. But I wasn’t having any of that. We were so done. _

_ “I’m sorry if you were ignorant and had no idea what you wanted in life when you were nine,” I told her, and I might have made a vase or two explode because I didn’t allow myself to shout. “But I do. And it has Al in it. Big time. At all times. I know you think you’re looking out for me – but you’re just being cruel. Are you jealous of the bond we share? You can’t crack it with your petty words, however rational you want them to sound, Mum! You think it’s just something I’m imagining? We’ll see in ten years, Mum. And in twenty, and in fifty, if you’re still around. I’ll be happy to prove you wrong.” _

_ That’s why she was the first person I told about us moving in together. I knew she’d understand this was my way of telling her: “I’m proving you wrong.” _

_ I slammed the door in her face angrily that day, and went to work on my model of the Swooping Evil cocoon, because I needed to scare the crap out of that reporter wench. I wasn’t going to let her infect you with her malice – write crap about you that everyone could read. Besides, how was I going to say my goodbye to you properly if she was still at the station, watching our every move? But I could still hear Mum walking about the house, as if she was lost in her own home, until she finally gave up and Disapparated. I knew where she was going. She only ever went to one place. She was going to catch a few more hours of work before doing what everyone expected of her and walking her daughter to the Hogwarts Express for the first time. I knew she wasn’t going to love doing it, but it was expected of her. _

_ You know… I respect my mother and her achievements. And I don’t hate her. I don’t exactly love her as one should love their parent… but I no longer hate her. Like in her third year at Hogwarts, when she tried to attend all classes with the help of a Time-turner, she tried to have it all in life: a successful career, two children, a supportive husband. She ended up sleeping in her office, her best friend sleeping with her husband, and with two kids that refused to live in the square box of her expectations. _

_She nearly had a fit when Rose told her she didn’t want a Ministry career. She couldn’t see any value in Rose being a Quidditch star and travelling around the world with Scorpius Malfoy on her arm. It isn’t a_ smart _thing to do. And she doesn’t care how happy I am since I’ve moved in with you. In two months’ time, I’m going to be the youngest Healer to ever start an individual practice at St. Mungo’s – but it’s all worth nothing, because living with you just “_ isn’t right” _– whatever the fuck_ right _is._

_ She’d rather have me miserable… and it makes me wonder if she ever knew how to just be happy. Not to overthink. Not to plan and project. Not reflect and re-evaluate. Not to compare and compromise. You know, to just sit back and be happy. Because that’s how happy I am. That’s how happy you make me, Al. And without you, the equation of my life just doesn’t work. I hope you know that. I hope you’re not planning something to shatter it beyond repair. I can do chaos and mayhem and things not working out – but I can’t do a damn thing without you. I know you’re always so bloody insecure… and you’re trying so hard to do the right thing… but please, don’t fuck this up, Al. I need you. And I know you need me, too. Unbreakable, yeah? _

_ ~ _


	6. Chapter 6

“Slytherin!”

The second the Sorting hat spoke the word, the whole damn Great hall came to a halt, and time seemed to freeze. My first instinct was to run. To run and to hide where no one could find me. At that moment, it felt as if everything was lost. No Potter – let alone Weasley – had ever been sorted into Slytherin, and I knew that if there was one sure way to lose Hugo, that was it. I should have known that something was amiss when the damn hat sighed as soon as the Headmistress put it on my head:

“Well, well, well… isn’t that extraordinary! And… a bit awkward, if I may say so. A Potter – yes, very distinctly – and a Weasley – slightly less so – but there are… other influences… Albus Severus Potter… indeed, I have rarely witnessed such a curious blend of light and dark, my dear boy… Once, perhaps twice… and one of them was your father. But you’re not your father, are you?”

“No,” I thought miserably to the hat. “I’m nothing like my dad. My dad is brave and kind – and he knows how to stand his ground. Me, I’m…”

 _“Slytherin!”_ the hat announced, and I froze for a moment, feeling a mixture of absolute shock and dread. In the worst of my nightmares I was sorted into Hufflepuff – and that was bad enough! – and sometimes Grandma Molly said she thought I’d be good in Ravenclaw when I listed the ingredients for her cookies off the top of my head – which I reckoned would be all right. But _Slytherin…_ that was… beyond comprehension. Even James never teased me with that, and by the stunned expression on his face, I could tell it had never crossed his mind.

“Oh, dammit… Al,” I could hear Rose groan behind me when Headmistress pushed me towards the green-clad table in perfect silence. Not even the serpents seemed happy to see me. Most of them simply looked confused, as if they weren’t entirely sure that someone putting a Potter in their midst wasn’t just an elaborate prank; but a few moved away swiftly, as if I was venomous, and they looked downright hostile. The only one still not moving, smiling at me, albeit a tad stiffly, was that blond boy that I’d seen following Rose around.

“Hello,” he said quietly. “Remember me?”

I nodded, still too flabbergasted to speak properly, but definitely grateful for his kindness. Malfoy. His name was Scorpius Malfoy, I remembered, and then the memory of Rose’s words struck: _‘The one Dad told us not to be friends with.’_ Even the only friendly face belonged to a boy I was not meant to be friends with.

“Oi, what kind of a freak are you?” a big, toothy boy sitting across the table hissed at me. “Potters don’t belong at this table. You’ve got no business here.”

“He’s that loony we saw hugging that other boy, remember?” giggled a pretty, and highly venomous brunette sitting next to him. “I think he was crying!”

“Oh, yuck… yeah, he’s the one! Who was the little ginger stick you were slobbering all over? Your boyfriend?”

 _Hell_. I was in Hell. How was I going to live through a year – seven years! – of this? Without Hugo? Was the Sorting hat trying to kill me? Well, it was working. Ten minutes into my Hogwarts experience, I was half-dead and nearly under the table, wishing I could disappear completely.

“Shut up, you’re being evil!” the blond boy tried to defend me, but there was something so meek and gentle in his expression I just knew he wasn’t up to the job.

“Slytherin!” the hat called out behind my back again, but I was too mortified and stunned to pay it any attention. But then Rose casually took her place on the bench next to me, and before she even sat down properly, I heard a _thump_ , and the evil boy sitting across from me doubled over in pain.

“Compliments of my brother Hugo,” Rose said calmly, clearly having kicked the boy in, uh, his sensitive bits under the table. “He’s the ginger stick Al here was _‘slobbering all over’,_ as you so explicitly put it. And because an inbred pure-blood simpleton like you wouldn’t know what that means – they’re cousins, stupid, that’s what it means. And best friends. And if you think you have it bad now – you’d better pray that Al doesn’t write to Hugo about what just happened – or I wouldn’t open any mail for the rest of the year if I were you. My brother is… exceptionally talented when it comes to payback. You just might have a bright future as one of the Hogwarts ghosts if he finds out you picked on Al.”

In that moment, I just… loved her. I loved her unrelenting Weasleyness, I loved her for looking a bit like my Hugh, and for delivering a message straight from his bold, brave heart to the entire Slytherin house. I smiled at her as best as I could in my sorry state, and when she beamed at me, I finally managed to utter in a shaky voice.

“Thanks… What are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be…”

“A Gryffindor?” Rose huffed, and waved her hand dismissively. “Just like everyone expected me to be? So boring. Besides, once you two prats landed yourselves at this sorry table, I had little choice left, did I? This is where all the fun is going to be!” she grinned widely at the blond boy at her other side, and I could’ve told you even back then that Scorpius Malfoy, at the ripe age of eleven, had _“This is my future wife”_ written all over his smitten face, smiling goofily at her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I told Rose sincerely. “Not so sure I was cut out to sit behind this table,” I mumbled as quietly as I could, hoping she’d still hear me.

“Oh, no need to thank me,” Rose waved her hand dismissively. “Hugo paid me to look after you,” she said perfectly seriously, and my heart simply wanted to fly out in giddy excitement. “Four galleons a month, and a year’s supply of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes best and newest inventions,” Rose rambled on. “So far, I kind of like being your bodyguard, actually. Hugh knows why he asked me and not Jamie.”

I imagine most kids would’ve been hurt and offended that their cousin hadn’t defended them because she liked them – but actually, I was relieved. This way, my well-being didn’t have to depend on Rose’s moody disposition, and most importantly, it allowed me to feel that it was really Hugo who was taking care of me, even if by proxy. The very thought made me warm inside, and I somehow made it through the dinner even when some of the cheekier gits, who didn’t know Rose very well, attempted to ruin it for me – and are probably still sorry for it. I didn’t care about things landing in my soup, or my glass squealing like a pig every time I touched it – and my plate of food nearly made it to the edge of the table, sliding away from me, before I even noticed it was moving on its own.

I was in a strange haze of numbness and melancholy, thinking of what Hugo would be up to about this time and wondering if he was thinking – and worrying – about me as well. Would he still care for me like this… sorted into Slytherin? God, I didn’t even want to think that he wouldn’t. Merlin, how I would have loved to have him near me, so I could look into those diamond-blue eyes and make sure he didn’t care where I was sorted. Rose’s opinion and acceptance… well, of course it was brilliant to have her on my side, but it just didn’t matter as much, you know? She was a wild one, fiercely independent and notoriously spiteful – for all I knew, she’d stand by me just to prove to everyone that hers was the right way. Besides, I slowly came to realise that Rose being sorted into Slytherin robbed me of one last chance to strike up some sort of a friendship with someone who wasn’t Hugo. Scorpius Malfoy… well, he could barely take her eyes off her even then.

But frankly, I didn’t mind. It was what I expected, and I felt strangely exhilarated that I’d be able to write to Hugo about how very unfounded his fears were: I still had and wanted no one but him. Merlin, that dinner dragged on and on – and I only longed to be in my room, writing Hugo… something... somehow giving him the news of my sorting and try to make it through the night to send it in the morning, and through the following few days before I got his reply. Merlin’s lame dog, Hogwarts was proving to be just as much of a nightmare as I’d expected, and my Sorting didn’t exactly improve my prospects of enjoying any of my time here.

Finally, when Rose was done stuffing herself with about a hundred different desserts in a manner that would make Uncle Ron proud, we were ready to move. The Slytherin common room was in the dungeons, and the corridors leading to it were dark and moist, but at least there was no tedious stair-climbing and confusing mazes of staircases – no, down there it was all solid, as the heavy foundations of Hogwarts should be. Our common room was a bit of a surprise… you see, I unexpectedly liked it. When Dad talked about his Polyjuice experience, he always made it sound as if was depressing and a bit scary compared to the cheerful Gryffindor quarters, but I reckon it suited my gloomy disposition. I liked the emerald shades filtering through the windows, though I confess that the many dark shadows of the lake creatures I could see slithering by the green-tinted glass made me uncomfortable for some time.

I sat on the antiquated four-poster bed that had my trunk at the foot of it, and I immediately wanted to draw the heavy, emerald curtains around it. I noticed that Scorpius Malfoy took the bed next to mine, and I was all right with that. He wasn’t the person I exactly craved to be close to, but he was harmless enough and quite friendly. Just that… him occupying the bed next to mine really brought it home that even if by some mad miracle Hugo did end up sorted a Slytherin next year – yes, it was going to be next year, it had to be! – we would never share a bedroom while staying here… Somehow, I was going to have to learn how to fall asleep without even a hope of curling into my favourite warm embrace and feeling the worn out blanket wrap around me, secured by those strong, wiry arms that always kept me safe.

I was tired, and that thought was so unsettling and depressing, I felt like bawling all over again… and I still had to write Hugo some sort of a note. Without any real idea what to tell him, how to even begin, I climbed off my bed and opened my school trunk to bring out my writing supplies. But it wasn’t the writing supplies that I first saw when I opened the lid, even though I distinctly remembered putting them on top. It was pyjamas. And they weren’t mine.

My heart started beating madly when I took a clean but sloppily-folded and somewhat faded two-piece abomination covered in hundreds of printed snitches out of the trunk, and I held it close, hugging it tightly as I would an old, dear friend. Hugo had somehow managed to sneak in his favourite pyjamas, and I instantly had tears in my eyes when I inhaled the familiar fresh fruity scent of the washing powder Uncle Ron used for cleaning their clothes. God, how it made me miss my Freckly! I bit my lip hard so I wouldn’t start sobbing. I just felt so weak, helpless, and lonely, as if I were in a stone cage at the end of the world, and I wanted my Hugh badly. But there were three other boys in the room, and I might never live it down if they witnessed me howling over silly old Snitch-covered pyjamas.

So instead, I just put them on as quickly as I could, and I felt a thrilling bout of heady exhilaration when I was engulfed by a familiar fragrance that smelled like home and comfort. It was slightly too long and I reckoned I looked like a scarecrow wearing it, but I’d wear the damn thing to the class if I could get away with it. I wouldn’t dream of putting on anything else. My Hugh managed to sneak a little bit of himself into my lonely world far away from him, and I had no words to explain how much that meant to me. And then my eyes fell on the horribly-wrapped package with a big, bright note still attached to it, and my fingers shook when I touched the silly, ugly wrapping. Whatever it was, I wanted to see it in private, I decided. Given that it came from Hugh, it just might break my resolve and make me cry in earnest.

So I rushed off to the bathroom to get myself ready for the night, and just before I mumbled a hasty “G’night” to a half-slumbering Scorpius Malfoy, I remembered that I was still supposed to write Hugh a note. I did manage to dig out my writing supplies after all, and then I closed the thick drapes around my bed and tore into the wrapping of Hugo’s present with impatient fingers.

It was a book. Well, a notebook. With a forest-green cover – a bit like the colour of my eyes, really – square, shaped like a diary, with a golden ring-shaped clasp and a lock on the side. I opened it with the tiny key, and the very first page in it took my breath away. It held a picture of us, a silly little something we took just a few weeks ago with a brand-new mobile phone Hugh’s grandparents had given him. I remembered that day with crystal clarity. It was the first piece of Muggle technology we were allowed to play with, and we’d been fooling around with it for a while before this picture was taken. Hugo was looking straight into the camera, clearly still trying to figure out how it worked when it went off, and the big blue eyes were so focused and brilliant in a frowning, freckled face, I nearly forgot how to breathe. It was as if he was looking straight at me, and I… I was looking at him. If I had any doubts that I loved my Freckly, this picture would have driven them all away. I was smiling goofily, looking positively radiant.

“AL‘S DIARY” it said on top of the picture in Hugo’s messy writing, and my eyesight went foggy as the first teardrop landed on that precious page. I cleaned it away hastily so as not to ruin the treasure… and then it happened. Right in front of my disbelieving eyes, a word appeared, and I recognised the terrible, sharp cursive:

_“Al?”_

My fingers shook so badly, I could barely spell, and I dropped a big ink-spot next to the wet spot made by my tears, but in the end I managed a simple: _“Yes! Hugh? Is that you?”_

My heart was beating with twice the normal speed as I waited for the reply, and I could barely believe that there was a chance… a possibility… that I might be talking to my Hugh. And then it came.

_“Of course it’s me, Allie.”_

The relief and mad sense of happiness that flooded me was indescribable. Just a few words from him had changed everything. Suddenly, I was elated, almost giddy with joy and all the love I was no longer able to deny. And the words, his wonderful words, just kept coming.

_“You didn’t think I’d just let you go away on your own, did you? Isn’t this a hundred times cooler than the owl post?”_

_“God, yesss!!!”_ I managed, three times underlined, before his reply came in. He must have been in a hurry because his hasty scribble was almost illegible, but just seeing it… knowing that he was sitting in the semi-darkness waiting for me, writing to me… it made my heart flutter like a silly butterfly drunk on nectar.

_“Dad invented it… well, sort of. He spoke to some bloke Malfoy about it… something about some diary and closets and replicating charms… They were shouting at each other before they were done, and he was mumbling the whole afternoon “That git! The things I do for my children, honestly…” – but whatever information that man gave him, it made Dad come up with this. Anything that goes in, we can both see. Look…”_

Another picture taken with Hugo’s phone appeared and this time it was a silly one, where we both rolled our eyes, made faces, sticking our tongues out, and a half-snort, half-giggle ending in a sob escaped me before I could help it.

“Shut it!” someone yelled across the room. “Some of us are trying to sleep!”

It made me jump, and I nearly slammed the precious book closed… but I couldn’t stay away… I couldn’t. There was my Hugh on the other side, waiting for me, trying to communicate, and I felt that rare surge of reckless boldness that made me ignore other people’s wishes.

“Sorry,” I snapped. “Some of us don’t go to sleep when baby chickens do!”

Loud snoring was my only reply, and I couldn’t wait before I could open my wonderful passage to Hugh again.

And sure enough, it already had a string of new messages from him.

_“Al?”_

_“Are you all right?”_

_“Are you tired? Want me to let you rest?”_

_“What’s wrong, Al?”_

_“Allie?”_

_“Here,”_ I replied quickly. _“Sorry… some dork in the room. I’m… all right. Now I am. Or… will be. As long as we have this… a way to talk. Bloody brilliant if anything ever was. I’ve got news… and it isn’t good. I’ve been… ugh… I hate telling you like this… I’ve been sorted to Slytherin, Hugh.”_

The silence on the other end seemed ominous. The frantic beating of my own heart was all I could hear as I waited for his reply, and every second seemed slow and excruciating. And then a drawing appeared, an outline of Hugo’s left hand, and the words underneath said:

_“Put your hand on mine, Allie.”_

And I did. I kept it there for a few moments, and I swear that the paper underneath my chilly palm began to heat up, as if there was another, warmer hand pressing against mine from the other side. I was once again choking back tears.

 _“Better?”_ the words appeared, and silly, overly-emotional me nodded as if he could see me.

 _“Yeah,”_ I finally managed to reply. _“Much.”_

 _“Slytherin it is, then,”_ the words stated simply. _“For you and I. I’d never leave you, Allie. If I have to cheat, lie, or be stupidly honest – I’ll get there. And we’re going to make it the best house ever, you and I. Together.”_

 _“Together,”_ I wrote, and then I added my new favourite word. _“Unbreakable.”_

I knew it would make him smile proudly, happily. I quickly drew two stick figures holding hands and I got a huge smiley in reply.

I didn’t want to stop writing to him that night – or any other night, for that matter – but he was too clever to let me decide. I was just done writing him about Rose – and her new blond shadow – when the words came:

_“Time for bed, Potter. I’ve got my debt to Rose to work out tomorrow at the shop. You know if I forget to include a single Fainting Drop, she’s going to send me a mother of all Howlers, and Dad says they’re not good for business. More tomorrow? Tomorrow morning? As soon as you wake up, you let me know?”_

Merlin, yessss – how could I not? But I couldn’t put in writing something so sentimental, so I just wrote:

_“You got it, Weasley. Good night, then… And Hugh… thank you.”_

_“Sleep tight, Allie. XXX.”_

I stared at those three characters at the end, and my heart was drumming wildly against my chest. Those were _kisses._ Everybody knew that X meant a kiss.

I fell asleep wrapped around my notebook that night… and every other night. I held it close to my heart, as a child would their favourite toy, and I didn't mind waking up with the imprint of a cover or a lock across my face more often than not. It was as if I could feel his care and devotion when I wrapped around it, and everything was better when I got to say _“Heey, I'm up… and… shit… running late already!”_ every morning. I only needed to hold on until the evening, every evening, to share my horrible-not-so-horrible day with him, and my defeats no longer felt so bitter, and my precious few victories much sweeter.

He was there to cheer for me when it turned out – much to my own surprise – that I was actually quite talented in _Potions_ , of all things!

 _“Hurray, Al!”_ he wrote, after I’d shyly mentioned that Professor Vane complimented me on my work. _“I guess all those cooking lessons by Grandma Molly are finally paying off, eh?”_

And he quickly sketched me a champion's goblet filled with simmering, foaming liquid that indeed looked like one of Grandma Molly's cauldrons.

And he was there for me after I had my first flying lesson – that, naturally, landed me in the hospital wing when he wasn't present.

 _“I'm such a blasted loser, Hugh,”_ I wrote that night, everything hurting and feeling utterly dejected. _“How the hell do I not know how to fly?! It's like I'm not even a proper Potter… or even a Weasley, you know!”_

 _“How about an Evans?”_ he wrote, shocking me silly with the reply and how quickly it came. I guess my clever Freckly knew it would come to that. _“You know, according to Grandpa Arthur, your grandma Lily Evans was absolute shit on a broom, a bit like my mum… I guess flying just doesn’t go that well with intellectuals, eh? Grandpa Arthur says that Sirius Black, that incredible legend, often told a story of your grandpa James laughing at her on the first day of their flying lessons, but he soon lost all will to do so when she made his own broom thump him on the head. 'He was never quite the same again,' Sirius used to say to Grandpa Arthur. 'Literally smitten by his future wife! The temper of that woman, whew!' he would whistle.”_

I just stared at that page hungrily, tired, hurt and humiliated, craving his kindness, ready to soak in whatever comfort he had to give… and as if he could fear my despair, the words continued to appear:

_“I guess what I'm trying to say is… Magical gifts are different for everyone, Al. Your dad’s got all of his father's flying talent, but none of his mother's magical skill with potions – and look at you, nearly putting your namesake Severus to shame with your skill! Hell, forget the potions, your pancakes make Aunt Fleur call them “mean” because she can’t stop stuffing herself with them. You’re brilliant, Al. Just as you are. Don't you dare wish you were different!”_

Yeah, he was always there for me, his every clever, caring word filling my heart with more of that unspeakable love that made me think that my heart, perhaps, was bottomless because it hadn't burst already. I often lay on my bed for long moments after we'd stopped writing, just thinking of him, trying to remember how he looked, smiling at the thought of him always carrying the silly notebook around – and how many eyebrows that must have raised – but mostly, of how much I longed to see him. I pictured a thousand different scenes of how it would be. And finally, the day came.

_~_

_Oh, god, don't remind me! Merlin's lame dog, was I nervous! But you know – probably not for the same reasons you were. I mean… I might have been if it wasn't for your… our diary. I reckon it was Dad's most brilliant invention to date. With it by my side, I didn't doubt the bond between us for a single moment, not one. You could have stepped off that train, looked me in the eye and told me:_ 'I don't want you, Hugo Weasley, I found someone better' _– and I would have called your bluff without blinking. It made such a difference. Even across the distance, I could feel how fractured, frightened and alone you were without me, and I ached to make it better. On the really bad days, I could read your despair, your longing, your need to be held, comforted and encouraged from every word you put in there – and with every reply I put my soul in, I felt the bond between us growing deeper. I knew you’d never needed me more – and I hadn’t fared much better myself._

_I might not have had the same insecurities you did, my love, but it doesn't mean I didn't have my own moments of weakness. I barely slept when you were away; my mood was as foul as if you took all the kindness I was meant to have away with you, and I just… wasn't happy. In fact, I was so deeply and obviously unhappy that even Mum softened towards me, and I… I just kept thinking of ways how to run away from home and see you. I would have honestly gone barmy if it wasn't for the diary. The only spark of joy I felt inside me was in the morning, when I got your hasty notes – and I came alive in the evenings when I knew we'd have a few moments – sometimes long hours – to ourselves. I put my entire day into those moments._

_So no, I wasn't worried about that. I mostly worried about silly stuff, like a proper ten-year-old would. Would we wake up on time? God forbid we should oversleep! I made sure Dad set on all the clocks we owned to alert us. I even learned how to set on the alarm on my mobile phone. I hadn't been using it much without you; it was just no fun. Oh, and what if the weather got so bad you got stuck in the snow? It wasn't unheard of for a train to remain stuck on the rails because of the giant snowdrifts, and Scotland was known to be particularly snowy! Or Dad's silly Muggle car could break down! How would we get to London then? I had about a dozen alternatives planned, Muggle and magical alike._

_Or – most critical in my opinion – Mum could change her mind about letting us all stay at the Burrow. That would be the most crushing, and that was what I feared above all. I had no use for a holiday if I couldn't spend it by your side. I made sure she agreed. I begged her to let us spend the first week of your holiday there. I promised to behave exceptionally well – I'd had little motivation to do mischief since you'd been gone anyway – and she finally agreed. I guess she was softened by my sorry state, and perhaps by Dad's remark that I would end up hating her if she was always strict with me. But she could change her mind for god-knows-what reason, and that was something I couldn't control._

_I knew it would be easy to persuade Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny to allow a stay at the Burrow. Aunt Ginny had a New Year's Quidditch Tournament to cover and would hardly be around anyway, and your Dad… your Dad couldn't wait to spend some time with mine. They would disappear for long hours, and I always made sure I covered for them. They didn't even have to ask. I'd tell people I just saw one of them recently, doing whatever, and everyone assumed they'd just missed them. I knew that uncompromising need to spend time together – I knew it very well, I knew it could make one reckless, and I knew how hard it was to bear. I had the same hunger in me, making me dead anxious the night before your arrival._

_I remember sitting on my bed, reading your last entry over and over again –_ “Less than twenty hours, Hugh, and we'll see each other again! Can you believe that?!” _\- and I barely could. The following day at this time, I'd have my Allie back. I'd be able to curl around you, look into those sparkling emerald eyes, listen to you ramble excitedly about everything that did and didn't matter, and finally fall asleep properly, feeling whole again. Just the promise of you made me sleep better, and I ended up being grateful for the silly mobile phone and the screeching alarm I'd set._

_Of course the train was delayed… of course it bloody was. It was just an hour, but it meant waiting for an extra hour on the not-so-warm-and-cosy Platform 9 ¾, which only had one small coffee shop that could only be magically enlarged so much. I wasn't doing so well with packed places as it was, so I told everyone to get on without me, and I would just stay outside and get some fresh air. I was determined that I was going to be the first to see the train, maybe spot you through the window and make sure I was the first one there when you got off. The crowd dispersed soon, seeking warmth and refreshments, and in the end, there was only me and a tall man in a fancy coat with a long blond ponytail left._

_He looked familiar… and then I remembered who he was: Malfoy, that’s what Dad had called him when he’d invited him over to design our magical notebook. And then I noticed him holding something – and I recognised the shape and the design immediately. So, our notebook wasn’t so unique after all… Malfoy had one, too, and since he had brought it along, it didn’t take a genius to guess who he was corresponding to. I guess Dad made him one to thank him – or perhaps it was the price to pay for Malfoy’s knowledge all along. Well, I didn’t mind. He helped Dad, helped us – he was welcome to have one if he liked. Dad told me he was a widower, and I guess Scorpius Malfoy was the only real treasure he had left._

_I could easily see through his attempt to look bored, haughty, and distinguished – as he stood there all by himself, I just saw a man who was tired, restless and just as anxious as I. Our eyes met for a second, and he appeared intrigued, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to treat me, but he looked like the type of person who would be more comfortable with casual chit-chat than a meaningful conversation, so I wasn’t going to let him handle it._

_“Thanks for that,” I said, pointing to his notebook with radiant blue covers made of expensive silk, not unlike the colour of my eyes. “Dad implied it wouldn’t be possible without your knowledge. And it’s helped us a great deal, Al and I.”_

_He looked positively shocked – I wasn’t sure about what, really. About the audacity of a ten-year-old addressing him uninvited? The willingness of a Weasley to talk to Malfoy? Because I thanked him?_

_“So, you must be…”_

_“Hugo,” I helped him. “Hugo Weasley.”_

_“And the reason behind this… product,” he murmured to himself. “Apparently, you’re quite persuasive. Your father had a very clear outline of the final design and for once, I thought it was…_ ingenious, _but he wouldn’t quite give away why he needed all the information.”_

_“It’s my cousin Al,” I told him honestly. “We’ve never been apart for so long, and we… we’re very fond of each other,” I said finally because I didn’t know how to explain the bond Al and I shared to this stranger._

_“Albus Potter,” the man nodded. “Scorpius speaks very highly of him. Not as highly as of your sister Rose, of course,” he scowled slightly, “but apparently the boy’s harmless and very smart, if a bit of a loner.”_

_“That’s because he wants no one but me,” I blurted out, and I immediately saw grey eyes light up with interest._

_“Is that so?” he said casually, but the sparkle in his eyes was telling me he was quite intrigued._

_“Yes,” I told him because for me, that had never been a secret. “And I want no one but him either. I’m going to be a Slytherin, just like him, so we can be together again.”_

_“Forever and ever?” he asked, sounding perfectly serious, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as if he was properly entertained._

_“If I can have it,” I told him, looking straight at him, because if I hadn’t backed off in the face of disapproval, I wouldn’t back off in the face of mockery either._

_He looked at me for a long moment, appearing almost impressed, and then he shrugged:_

_“Well, last time I checked, marriages between first cousins were perfectly legal. Not common, and you do have to appear before the Wizengamot’s Special Board for Family Affairs to state your case – merely a precautionary measure, to be sure – but perfectly legal. Can’t remember the last time anyone got denied one. Sadly, I can’t recall one between two male wizards, either. You’d have to be the first.”_

_I couldn’t honestly remember when I was last so flabbergasted. This… man, who was supposed to be as vicious as they came according to Dad, and barely better than a perfect stranger to me, appeared to take me seriously. And marriage…_

_A train whistle announced_ _the arrival of the Hogwarts Express, and at least for that moment, I forgot all about my confusing thoughts and finding a smart reply to Scorp’s father – I doubt he cared anyway. People slowly began to pour onto the platform, and my heart was hammering madly in my chest . What if you panicked and you decided not to come home? Dad’s done it for different reasons, more than once! What if I missed you and someone else got their hands on you first? You’d be passed around to relatives like a trophy – I’d never get a chance to hug you properly. And what if…_

_But all my fears and doubts disappeared the second I lay eyes on a boy in a thick winter coat that appeared oversized around his thin figure stepping out of the train. While you struggled with your trunk, your jet-black hair immediately picked up a few crystal snowflakes, and I remember thinking that you looked like a prince who got crowned upon arrival._

_“Allie!” I gasped, and to this day, I don’t know if any kind of sound actually came out. It must have, because I saw you drop the trunk as if it no longer mattered, and then I was already upon you like a storm; after that nothing truly mattered anymore. I had my Allie back, and the rest of the world could go and fuck off. I remember wrapping my arms around your fragile body and just holding on for dear life… and when you leaned into the crook of my neck and I felt your cold, wet face rest against my pulse, I was in heaven. No one can take those moments away from me, and to this day, they’re one of my favourite, most treasured memories, my happy place to go to._

_“Hugh… you – you came,” you whispered in a trembling voice, and it was only then that I realised you were sobbing into the collar of my coat._

_“Of course I came,” I whispered, feeling so tender I was dangerously close to bawling myself. “I’d never miss it, silly. I’ve been standing in the cold for nearly an hour for you, just so you wouldn’t slip past me!”_

_“Who’s silly now?” you sniffed and laughed all in one, and it hit me how much of you I’d been missing: the wonderful silken-sweet fragrance of you, the shy laughter, the way your body fit against mine, the warmth we shared… I swear, if you’d turned out to be only a dream, Albus Potter, I would have woken up bawling my eyes out._

_But, at least for a few weeks, you were mine; you were really there, and we were going to be inseparable… no…_ unbreakable _once again._

_“I got our parents to agree to go to the Burrow straight from the station!” I told him my big news hastily. “For a full week! And we’ll think of something for the week after that. I’m not… I don’t want to let you go.”_

_I kind of just blurted that last part out, surprising even myself, so I fully expected to feel you freeze and then squirm in my arms, as you would when you were shocked and slightly uncomfortable. But you didn’t. If anything, you seemed to grow more pliant, as if your body somehow took to the shape of mine, and God… what_ was _that?! Was it magic? It made me flushed all over, and I_ loved _the feeling! I’d completely forgotten we were in a busy train station because it just felt so incredibly intimate holding you like this, bathing in the precious essence of you, as if I needed it to live._

_“I got something for you,” you whispered unexpectedly, and I sighed a little… but just a little. I didn’t want to let go of you for some meaningless knick-knack, but I didn’t want to disappoint you either. We’d have to break apart at some point anyway… I was fairly certain everyone was staring by now, and you always hated that. As soon as we stepped apart I felt strangely… torn, almost as if I’d allowed the winter chill to pass through the sudden hollowness in me, and if I could have had it my way, I’d have pulled you right back into my arms._

_But at least now I got my chance to take a good, hard look at you. I admit it kind of broke me a little how…_ lovely _you were turning out to be. You hadn’t grown too much – well, definitely not as much as me, making Dad groan I’ll bankrupt him with my growth spurts – but a little bit, and your face looked somehow more defined. The crystal snowflakes falling around us landed on that pretty mouth of yours, glossing it over, and when they caught on the ridiculously thick fan of your long, jet-black eyelashes, they seemed to reflect in your big emerald eyes like ancient faerie treasure. Even at the age of ten, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I was ever going to see._

_“Come,” you said hurriedly, and your cold bony fingers suddenly slipped into my hand like a tiny bird willingly flying into a cosy trap, looking for warmth. “We won’t be long.”_

_As soon as my hand closed around yours, I felt a surge of pride and joy, as if I had just got my hands on the ultimate prize, and I swear, I was as happy as one can be. And we didn’t even look odd, walking hand in hand. Lots of people, especially children, did it not to get lost in the crowd, but we’d only ever held hands in private up ‘til then, and it made my heart flutter to be able to parade you around like this. On that day, everything seemed to hold special meaning. I didn’t know where you were taking me, and I didn’t care. I would have happily followed you to the edge of the world and over a cliff. I could tell you were a little edgy, as if there was something you needed to get off your chest, but I reckoned I’d find out soon enough._

_I admit, it shocked me a little when I saw you open a door labelled “Maintenance” with a hasty, agitated pull, because you were hardly ever the rebellious one. But this was clearly some kind of emergency. The tiny room looked pretty much like what one might politely call a broom shed, and it would have been claustrophobic once the door closed behind us if it wasn’t for the tiny window in the roof, covered with a layer of snow that barely let any light filter through. I looked into your eyes, glittering like precious green gems in the semi-darkness, and I saw you bite gently into your lower lip as you would when you were nervous._

_“Allie…?” I managed before you leaned into me and kissed me. And the whole world just melted around us. Your lips landed in the corner of my mouth, just off the appropriate zone for best friends and cousins, and as cold as they were, I felt as if someone had just sent a hot surge of pure love through me that completely fried my brain. The kiss was slow, soft and sweet, and so very deliberate, I literally couldn’t think of any appropriate response. I sensed those long eyelashes of yours tickling my cheeks as you closed your eyes, so I closed mine as well, and looked for your mouth in the darkness behind my eyelids. I was desperate to drown in that gorgeous feeling of love and devotion again. We kissed again, slowly, chastely – so very chastely, considering what I know of that lovely mouth of yours now, and what it can do – and to me, it felt every bit like worship. Kissing you was my way of thanking the gods for the love they gave me._

_I had nothing better to give you than that kiss, I couldn’t think of anything beyond it, and when you sighed a little and took it, it was the most fucking beautiful act of surrender I would ever experience. The feeling was absolutely heady. I didn’t know it back then, but in that cold, dingy, dimly-lit cupboard, I got a taste of what we would become, even though it took you a good number of years to give in to me properly, as a lover should. I knew we’d probably be berated for this little act of intimacy and love if anyone found out, but I honestly never cared what the world thought of us. I’d knock down anyone trying to soil this sacred memory for me. I feel no guilt – I didn’t back then, and I don’t now. What else would you give a person whose heartbeat felt one with yours even when you were miles apart? I’d spent countless hours thinking of you, writing to you, caring and worrying about you – and kissing you felt right, like things falling into place, like something I should have done years ago, I just never thought of it._

_“This is my present… sorry,” you murmured with your forehead pressed against mine. “Sorry I tricked you… I got you a Christmas present, but it’s at the bottom of the trunk, and this… I just missed you so much, Hugh.”_

_“I missed you, too,” I told you, and my lips still tingled with the taste of you and with a sudden savage desire for more of that magical kiss. “And I would have done it if you didn’t,” I whispered, and in that moment, I knew that I would have… eventually._

_“Al! Hugo!”_

_The sound of your dad’s voice was unmistakable, and it made you stiffen up immediately._

_“We better head back,” you said, sounding as dejected as I felt, and I found it hard to nod._

_“Yeah… we better. I can handle your dad, but having your mum knocking down this door with her Weasley howling is not something I’d wish on my worst enemy,” I said, and I saw you flash that shy, goofy genuine smile I’d missed so much._

_You didn’t say anything, but just before the door closed behind us, your hand slipped back into mine, and you said breathlessly, with a strange, defiant glimmer in your eyes: “I don’t want to lose you… in the crowd.”_

_It sounded more like a question, like a request for permission, and I nodded enthusiastically._

_“Yeah, it’s still packed. Just… lead the way.”_

_And if James had a big mouth about us showing up on the platform still holding hands, that big glob of snow that plopped on his head… well, my magic was erratic, he should have known better than to challenge it. But he sure as hell didn’t look very distinguished cold, wet and shivering, being led from the station wrapped up in a conjured blanket like a baby by your mum._

_As I lay wrapped around you hours later, in our own little cocoon of heaven, I watched you slowly drift away, and it was the most peaceful, fulfilling moment ever. But you tilted your head up, towards me, in a last defiant attempt to fend of fatigue, and our eyes met._

_“Sorry,” you whispered dreamily, your warm breath tickling my skin and your precious emerald eyes asking something of me I couldn’t quite comprehend. “I’m no use to you today. ‘m just too damn tired. So… good night… I guess?”_

_And then I knew what you were after, and I smiled giddily, like a smitten fool. I leaned down and pressed another lingering, soft kiss into the corner of your mouth, only to see you smile blissfully, as if Christmas had come early._

_“Good night, sleepy head,” I murmured, and once you sighed happily and slid into the familiar position that always made us both sleep comfortably, I whispered: “Sleep tight, Allie.”_

_But I couldn’t quite follow you into the land of dreams; my mind was too worked up with all the events of the day. You kissed me… and it was just… wow... the best thing ever. And you wanted me to kiss you again… so I decided to just go ahead and give it a shot once more in the morning. I needed to know, you see… Was it just a moment of tenderness, born out of the elation of reunion after our time apart, which we had both found so hard to bear, and would never let happen again… or was kissing something we now did, a part of our little ritual of falling asleep together?_

_And then there was something that Malfoy bloke had said… about_ marriage _. I couldn’t get his words out of my head. The more I thought about it… Look, I know you refuse to discuss it, Al, but just hear me out this once. He’d spoken the word all those years ago, and it all just…_ fell into place _. In my innocent, childish mind we were always just going to be together; I’d never really thought about what that meant, how were we going to… present our union in some form or another. But… at that moment…_

_Goddammit, Al… I wish we could talk it through for once. I wish you didn’t shy away from the subject every bloody time, and your eyes didn’t get that panicked, haunted expression as soon as I bring it up. This ‘avoid-conflict-at-all-cost’ strategy of yours is just fucking god-awful, and I… I just don’t get it, all right? Is the idea of giving the precious thing we have some kind of a name really so unthinkable? I know you want me… and I know how much that scares you. I swore to give you time, didn’t I? But, just so you know… I’ve known that you were the one since I was ten. Draco Malfoy might have planted the seed on a December afternoon on the deserted railway platform, but it has grown deep roots since then. I’d have you in a heartbeat. You only need to say the word. I’ll find us a way._

_Shutting up now, Al. I can picture that pleading look in your eyes, and it’s killing me. But just so you know: I fell asleep that day thinking of marrying you, and I’ve been dreaming about it ever since._

_~_


	7. Chapter 7

Everything was so easy after I got the courage to do it. It was probably the bravest thing I ever did in my life, and dammit, I earned having it easy for once. I never thought about it, not once, I just went… and did it. It was bloody scary, you can trust me on that, but I just… I couldn’t help myself around my Hugh. I saw him running towards me at the station, and the sight of him just completely knocked me off my feet. He must have grown at least another inch or so since the summer, and his brilliant fiery hair seemed like the only source of light against the heavy snowy background. And then he wrapped himself around me, the familiar scent of love and protection engulfed me, and all my restraints melted into a stream of tears I couldn’t hold back. I was just so… full of feelings for him, I had to do  _ something _ ; I had to show him how madly I’d missed him, how happy I was to have him back.

So I didn’t think, I didn’t ponder about the pros and cons of it, I just dragged him away, filled with some mad urgency, and I swear, I had no idea what I was going to do until I actually did it… yeah… I went on and kissed him. No pretence this time of a casual brush of lips, no looking away shyly, hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal of it, no masking. I kissed him with all the unspoken love I had for him, and it was the best, most genuine thing I’d ever done.

The second my Hugh looked at me up close, his sapphire-blue eyes sparkling with awe and wonder, I knew I’d done the right thing. Then he leaned into me, and those soft lips asked for another little tribute to our bond – and, with my heart hammering madly in my chest, I gave it gladly. It wasn’t odd, repulsive or god-awful – nothing that ever had to do with my Hugh could be – it wasn’t even awkward. And... most of all, it made my head spin. This kissing thing… I seriously liked it. It conveyed intimacy, affection and ‘I missed you’ in a way that I couldn’t say. And Hugo just took it in stride, like it was this new thing we did, like it was the natural progression of how things were between us.

The way he complied gave me the courage to wordlessly ask for another little token of affection just before I dozed off in the evening. I knew how well he could read me; I hoped he wouldn’t mind me asking. I just… I loved the feeling of his lips pressed against my skin, if only for the briefest moment, and finally having him back, I wanted to fall asleep with the fragrance of his warm body still whispering to my senses. I was breathing him in, and I don’t recall ever falling asleep so happy. And in the morning, when I woke up before the winter sun was even up, he was still there, wrapped tightly around me and sleeping soundly. And I couldn’t believe the miracle of him and my own luck. He was rarely this still, so this was my chance to look at him properly. Once again, I saw the man he was becoming – and he took my breath away. 

I should have known better than to stare at his creamy, sun-kissed skin for too long, watching his pulse beat evenly in the gentle curve of his neck, admiring the silken fan of the auburn eyelashes throwing shadows on the freckled cheeks, and those stormy eyebrows that gave his face such a determined look. I should have known better than to stare at the lush, warm mouth simply calling my name in a way that made my lips tingle with the memory of our kiss, waking up some unknown, aching yearning inside me. This was a road that only led one way, and if I ever wanted my life to take a course leading away from my Hugh, I shouldn’t have stared. But why would I want to? He was perfect, and he was mine… at least in the early morning hours he was. 

He opened his eyes, as if my persistent staring had somehow woken him up, and the stark contrast of those piercing blue gems and his fiery hair never failed to leave me breathless. 

“Hey, Allie,” he smiled dreamily, and his long fingers slipped into my hair, almost making me moan with a sensation that was relaxing and exciting at the same time. “I thought you’d be out until noon. You were so very tired, sleepy head… yet here you are, blinking at me at this ungodly hour.”

And then, just like that, Hugo Weasley leant forward and pressed a lingering, warm kiss into the corner of my mouth.

“Morning, then,” he murmured, and my heart nearly burst with the savage rush of love. 

“Morning,” I said as casually as I could with my heart fluttering like a charmed Snitch in my chest, and I couldn’t stop a goofy smile from spreading across my face. His kiss made the silent statement that I needed to hear so badly: it was not just a one-time occurrence. I could have it again and again and again, as many times as I liked, because the distance they forcefully put between us had somehow made the pull between us stronger, more needy, more greedy. 

I didn’t know that at the time – but I ended up needing more and more of my Hugh… until my Hugh was the only thing I still needed. And that… just scared me. So I went and did something stupid.

~

_ Oh, Allie… you aren’t still thinking about that, are you?! Stupid Yule ball… That was ages ago! And if you hadn’t done what you did, we might have never come together… or perhaps much later. Neither of us really knew what to do with those crazy, intense feelings between us, and… oh, god, you did break my heart… you very nearly did… but you left me no choice but to teach you a lesson – and that was all it was, Al.  _

_ I’d never leave you… never. I wish you’d stop having anxieties and nightmares about that. It’s just… you know I won’t be pushed about… and you know I hate hypocrisy. It needed to be done. But one lousy evening was all there was, Al. One evening, barely more than a couple of hours. I’ve been only yours ever since. You can’t hold it against me after all this time, Al Potter. I didn’t actually do anything! Just… showed you the alternative. Can’t you let it go, love? _

~


	8. Chapter 8

Well, it might have been a tad hasty on my part saying how easy everything was after that kiss. It was, at first – but then it all grew progressively more complicated. I had the best Christmas holidays ever, and somehow even Aunt Hermione didn’t object to us spending every moment of it together. And we still kissed… we kissed in the morning and evening of every single day we spent together, and it was gentle, delightful and exciting, but though that’s all it remained, just the expectation of our sweet little secret was making me daydream about it a lot more than it was healthy. 

And that last day before I had to return, we… Merlin, it was hard. We just held on to each other as if we were stuck together, and we walked hand-in-hand without even bothering to hide. James tried to crack a joke about it, and he somehow ended up levitating on the ceiling for ten minutes before Uncle Ron came around and rescued him. Hugo’s magic was still a bloody beast when provoked. And we might have… kissed a bit more. Like, a lot. A lot more. I needed it. I needed the assurance that my Hugh would still be there for me, that he was going to miss me just as much I would miss him. And that little bit of intimacy that was just ours somehow made it bearable. 

I was a wreck for days after my return to Hogwarts… but somehow more hopeful than the first time I’d had to leave. I had our diary – and there was going to be another holiday soon, just as perfect, and just the thought of lying next to him again sent shivers of delight down my body. I was no longer the scared little boy who’d left for Hogwarts a few months ago – I noticed that everything about me was changing, albeit slowly, and it left me confused and yearning for something I couldn’t even put into words. I just knew I missed my Hugo like never before. For… reasons. Reasons I could not explain. The less I saw of him, the more I craved him. 

The good news came just before the summer holiday. I just opened my diary one evening, and there is was: a picture of Hugo holding his Hogwarts letter, smiling brightly enough to make the sun look pale. If I could’ve climbed into that diary and had myself transported back home to celebrate with my Hugh, I would have, and fuck all the basilisks of the world. I was just so… insanely happy. So happy, in fact, that I gave James most of my allowance to smuggle some Butterbeer into the Slytherin common room – and when we ended up being caught by cranky Professor Parkinson, our head of house, I got stuck with my first detention of the year. It wasn’t important – I didn’t mind polishing my grandfather’s trophy anyway, and there were many more to come once Hugo was around.

My second-year departure to Hogwarts was an entirely different affair than the first. With Hugo by my side, I was giddy with excitement. I promised myself I wouldn’t be disappointed even if he didn’t end up as Slytherin – because my luck was just rotten that way – but my heart was still banging like mad once the Headmistress called out  _ “Hugo Weasley!”  _ and put the tattered hat onto his fiery head. And then there was a Hatstall. Like, a proper one. Well over five minutes, nearly six. And even when the Sorting Hat finally proclaimed “Slytherin!” – it didn’t sound quite as certain and triumphant as it normally did.

But as soon as Hugo’s beaming face emerged from under the Sorting Hat, all doubt as to which of them had won an argument that must’ve taken place under there promptly evaporated. Among Rose’s loud cheers –  _ “Way to go, little brother!”  _ – and James’s disappointment –  _ “No way, Hugh, no! How the hell am I the only Potter-Weasley offspring in Gryffindor?!”  _ – my little Freckly headed for the green table, flushed cheeks and fire in those blue eyes, and as I watched him walk towards me so determined and victorious, I felt my heart strike up that savage rhythm that only his presence could evoke.

“What the hell, Hugh?” I said in a shaky voice, and it wasn’t until then that I realised how invested I’d become in the Sorting Hat’s decision. “That took ages!”

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, sounding perfectly unperturbed. “The silly old thing tried to put me in Gryffindor… and then Ravenclaw. It couldn’t quite decide, so I proposed a third option. Sadly, it took me a while to change its mind; the blasted thing is quite stubborn!”

“Jesus, Hugh,” I murmured, but I couldn’t help feeling that old, familiar surge of uncompromising love and awe for my Hugo, who defied everything and everyone just to be with me.

Even Rose had to agree. 

“Impressive, brother dearest,” she commented, and then added imperiously, though sounding a bit concerned. “Now, beware, Hugh. I want no nonsense in our house. I don’t care how many detentions you get, but I don’t want it to reflect on our house points, you hear me? I want to win that house cup again, so you behave, yeah?”

“Consider it ours,” Hugo murmured, and looked at me with bright eyes. “Even if I have to cheat.”

“What did you tell the Sorting Hat to sort you into Slytherin?” I whispered to Hugo about an hour later while I was showing him around the Slytherin common room. 

“I told it I wanted to be with you,” he said simply – and I swear, it sent shivers down my spine when he looked at me with those brilliant eyes and smiled roguishly. 

“I told it that it couldn’t possibly matter in the Great Plan of the Universe where it put me – I am already who I am – so why wouldn’t it help make a boy… two boys… very happy? That kind of thinking seemed to confuse it, I reckon,” he chuckled. “It mumbled something about me possibly having a great destiny to fulfil, and I told it that I saw no reason not to do that from the grand house of Slytherin – if my Uncle Harry could get sorted into Gryffindor carrying Voldemort’s Horcrux inside him, that probably meant that our lives turn out mostly as a sum of our choices. And I chose you – and with you, the house of Slytherin. I think that argument – and the fact that I threw its own dubious sorting choice on the table – finally persuaded it I was indeed fit for the Slytherin house. It didn’t sound very pleased, though.”

“You’re just… mad,” I whispered, but I couldn’t help feeling the giddy excitement and gratitude that flooded me every time Hugh went out of his way to humour me. 

“Well… yes,” he agreed good-naturedly. “I suppose arguing with the Hat takes a bit of madness. But I made you a promise, and I intended to keep it. Now, about the bathrooms in this place… I heard they’re quite interesting.”

“This way,” I showed him, and I even opened the door for him into a miraculously empty room. “You’ve got your own for your dorm, but this one is for everyone that…” 

And that was as far as I got before he gently pressed me against the door and kissed me. I didn’t realise until that moment how much I needed it. For the first time since we’d been doing this, I let my guard down, and I mewled quietly, helplessly into our kiss. God, but how could I not? After a bloody endless day full of nervous excitement, he tasted divine, sweet and innocent, just the way I needed him to taste. It was like taking a sip of heavenly elixir that was keeping my heart beating.

“There,” he breathed onto my lips. “Don’t think I could sleep without that. I better go now,” he whispered, and this time, I leant into him to steal another, just one more of those sweet little smooches that thrilled me so much and had the power to calm that deep craving inside of me.

“Meet you here… in the morning? Just… I want another one for a good day,” he murmured, and my heart flipped in my chest. Perhaps we wouldn’t be able to share the bed, but our little ritual remained intact, and now I really had something to look forward to - morning and evening. 

“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound quite as excited as I felt – and then I got an even better idea. “Want to meet at the lunch break? We could have a stroll around the lake. I could show you the surroundings a bit – the Quidditch pitch, Hagrid’s hut…”

“Brilliant idea if there ever was one!” he interrupted me, and the way he beamed at me, I could tell he was happy that I was willing to spend time with him outside the dingy bathroom. But I’d have spent every moment of the day with him if I could’ve had it my way. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“Here in the morning, and again for lunch, then,” I nodded, and he hugged me fiercely once more, before we reluctantly headed back to the common room. And just before I closed my eyes in the evening, I had a hunch to look in my diary. 

“Sleep tight, Allie,” it said, next to a sketch of a pair of stick figures lying beside each other, and I smiled like a smitten idiot and pressed a kiss into the notebook excitedly. My Hugh was resting just one floor below me, and I was going to dream of him. If only it had all stayed so simple.

~

_ Well, for me… it is simple, Al. It always was. But you… you’re different. Sometimes I think you look for guilt in everything, as if you were afraid to just be happy with what you got… what we’ve got. What you see as complicated – I see as a happy time. Back at home, I only saw you when one of the adults let us spend time together, but here I saw you every day. I got to spend time with you in the mornings, at nearly every lunch break, and in the evenings. Those wonderful, magical evenings were my absolute favourite – they were always filled with laughter and joy. Most times, we were the last ones left in the common room, and I remember how much it excited you when I said “fuck it” to myself in my second year and just kissed you good night there in the middle of the empty Slytherin common room, instead of meeting you for our evening goodbye in the bathroom.  _

_ The risk of being seen… possibly being caught, really did it for you, I could tell. Your eyes lit up like green flames, and your lips were so wonderfully pliant that I knew back then, at the age eleven and a half, that I never wanted to kiss another person. And when the days got hotter and the nights got warmer, we’d take a stroll by the lake, or seek shelter at the edge of the Forbidden forest – and we’d get our chance to lie down like we used to back home at the Burrow.  _

_ As I grew from childhood to adolescence, I thought about lying down with you more and more often. I dreamed about that lithe body of yours pressing deeper into my embrace, so warm and so desperately needy for that unspeakable closeness we shared, always looking for more tenderness… I thought about that a lot. Too much. Obsessively. During the day and… yeah, mostly at night. By the time I was in my fifth year, I was wanking to the images, memories and fantasies of you, furiously so. And I didn’t even feel guilty.  _

_ It was just becoming increasingly difficult to hold myself back from touching you the way I wanted to touch you… yes,  _ very  _ much inappropriately. And, Merlin’s balls, how I craved you, madly so, but I didn’t want to scare you away. My instincts were telling me that you wanted me, but I had no idea... how or how far you were willing to take it. Perhaps you didn’t think of me the way I thought of you? I didn’t think it was possible you’d want me as much as I wanted you. I wish I could say that it was confusing, but it really wasn’t. Frustrating, yes because I was desperate not to drive you away with some impulsive, mad action – but I was never confused about what I wanted from you. You and I would only ever be right as boyfriends… perhaps more one day. But not just best friends, not some goddamn cousins. It was never going to be enough. _

_ You see, once the hormones struck – and as with any Weasley, they struck me hard – I had a pretty clear idea that what I felt for you never matched the simple, uncomplicated affection I was supposed to feel for my best friend and cousin… it didn’t even come close. No, what I felt for you wasn’t the sort of love that was nice and pleasant and casual; sometimes it was so hungry and full of longing it didn’t even make me happy – yet it was all I wanted. By the end of my fifth year at Hogwarts, I was head over heels in love with you, and dead scared of losing you over it. I was completely torn between what I wanted and uncharacteristically cautious of sharing it with you. I reckon it was the same thing that buried our fathers’ chance of being together. But we… we were luckier.  _

_ When the summer holidays came, something happened that finally gave me a hint of your feelings. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about… but perhaps you don’t know how it made me feel. Like a lot of things in our relationship, we never talk about it. Some things we don’t have to discuss like regular couples do… but there are a few things I wish you knew. _

_ We’d returned from Hogwarts to the Burrow for our summer holidays – and there were two beds instead of one in Dad’s old room. My heart literally broke at the sight of them. _

_ “You’re going to be headed to your last year at Hogwarts, Albus,” Grandma Molly spoke behind our backs, and I realised she must have followed us upstairs. She sounded a bit stiff, as if she knew she had done something… well, not quite fair. But when she believed she’d done the right thing, she wouldn’t be deterred.  _

_ “A few more months, and you’ll be seventeen. dear,” she placed her hand on your arm, and I just wanted to snap at her to leave you alone because you weren’t hers to handle. “A proper man, then,” she rambled on as stubbornly as only she could. “It’s only right that you got your own bed to sleep in. I would have given you your own room, if I could, but Harry… your dad says - and he’s right - that there’s barely any room left as it is in this old shack. And Hugo… he’s is only fifteen - he’s still very much a child. You’ll be parting ways soon… perhaps it’s best… you know how it is, boys...” she said, sounding a tad miserable, if not quite apologetic. _

_ You ran those nervous hands of yours through your wild hair, as you always did when you were upset, but then you nodded, and my heart sank to my feet. You weren’t going to stand up for what we had. You were  _ fine  _ with the change. If someone had told me summer holidays were cancelled at that moment and sent me back to Hogwarts, I would have gone gladly.  _

_ “Sure, Grandma,” you said with that fake, light tone that always told me everything was broken underneath. “I know how it is. We have to unpack now, yeah? See you downstairs in a minute. Any chance of those delicious ham-and-cheese omelettes?” _

_ “Oh, dear boy, you know you only have to ask,” Grandma Molly smiled brightly, sounding greatly relieved at how smoothly her intervention had gone. “I’ll be seeing you downstairs shortly, then. Don’t ignore me when I call for dinner, boys. I’m not beyond sending that ghoul from the attic to fetch you.” _

_ As soon as she was gone, I walked to my bed and I collapsed onto it. I wouldn’t even look at you. I was boiling with anger and resentment, and I was afraid my Weasley temper would prompt me to say something I would come to regret. I was pissed off with the whole world... and with you. Grandma Molly had no right! I knew it was her house and her rules - but she still should have been more tactful, perhaps ask one of us – or both – before she just went on and did it. She’d clearly consulted your dad, but not us! I had a good mind to leave the house, or I was sure I was going to end up hurting someone. And you… _

_ “Move,” you said firmly, and my head snapped up in surprise at the terse tone of your voice. You already had your wand drawn when you spoke again, sounding adamant and more than slightly ticked off. “Get out of the way, Hugo.” _

_ So I did, and I watched in awe as you whispered the levitation spell and the beds slid across the floor smoothly, soundlessly, until they were finally all but merged together.  _

_ “There,” you said finally, and smiled at me for the first time, albeit darkly. “No one is breaking us apart, Hugh. I don’t care how old we are. Unless you...” _

_ I didn’t even let you finish. I practically knocked you flat onto your bed as I kissed you, perhaps a bit forcefully, perhaps a bit too desperately, but goddammit, Al, I had so much love and gratitude and all that goddamn passion for you, my body was literally boiling over with it. You mewled underneath me as you sometimes did when we kissed, but this time you were sounding as desperate and filled with urgency as I was, and then my miracle happened and you sank your fingers into my hair and offered me your mouth straight on… and that had never happened before.  _

Godfuck _ , I had no I idea what I was doing, but I plunged straight in, dizzy with love and pure, undiluted lust I for once didn’t have to mask, and I heard you moan my name beneath me.  _

_ “Hugh… please, Hugh… more.” _

_ Merlin, yessss! The difference that single word of surrender meant… I had wondered, and hoped, and yearned and wanked… and yearned some more, hopelessly, for so long - and then there you were, breathing this one word into my mouth… “more”... and everything changed. We couldn’t go back to the way our lives were before you’d said it. My tongue was deep in your mouth, dancing in time with the sensual rhythm of yours, revelling in the delicious softness and wet heat of that silken cavity, my sanity slowly drowning in your sweet, breathless moans when Grandma Molly’s voice reached us – “Boys, dinner is ready!” – and you hissed out an angry: “Godfuck, Hugh… are we cursed, or what?! Can’t I ever have you?!” _

_ And my heart nearly jumped out of my chest at that point, making my ears buzz with its mad drumming. _

_ “Every time,” I gasped. “All the time. Whenever you like… however you like… for as long as you like.” And when I leaned into you to show you just what I meant, my cock, already bulging painfully against my school trousers, brushed against your burgeoning hardness, and that sound… that fucking sound of need, and want, and pure, savage desire that came out of your mouth nearly made me blow my load into my pants. I always hope you won’t notice, but I have such a fucking short trigger when it comes to you. Sometimes you’d just look at me with those emerald eyes, full of intricate feelings no one else could read, and I’d be at half-mast already . Al Potter, you’re my one passion in life. I could never do without you. And after that night – I didn’t have to. Before that stupid, stupid Yule ball, you gave me a taste of what we could have been, and though it was never enough, to me every little act of love and devotion seemed priceless. _

_ And still, we almost managed to blow it. You were being, well, a coward – damn, Al, there’s no other word for that, and it still makes me sick to think of the heart-wrenching choice you made – and I… I, for once, was livid enough to be as ruthless and cruel as only I can be. We really are a pair of idiots.  _ Were _. We were a pair or idiots. We aren’t any more, are we? We’re living together – we have been for some time – we’re madly in love, for fuck’s sake! Unless… is there more you want, love? Or… god help us… something else? _

_ ~ _


	9. Chapter 9

You know, it never really bothered me that Hugo was such a star from the moment he showed up at Hogwarts. He was always going to be, because as unwilling as he is to admit how he affects people, he just shines too brightly to be ignored. He still does. He’s the type of man who can stop the traffic. So, of course he was going to be a star. 

He was bloody fearless at Quidditch, and Professor Parkinson clawed her way through the entire rulebook and all the precedents to have him play as a first-year. No one cheered louder than I when I watched my Hugh fly and saw him make his opponents sob angrily into the sleeves of their robes.

Obviously, he was a bloody genius without much effort. With his mum’s brains and Uncle Ron’s unconventional chess-champion ingenuity – how could he not be? 

He breezed through those classes like a champ without even bothering much with books, much to Rose’s envy and Scorp’s awe. He never told me – but I found out anyway – that McGonagall made him take a series of proficiency tests before she admitted him at such a young age, and Aunt Hermione let it slip once that he’d passed with flying colours. And I’d be the first to admit that I didn’t mind Hugo’s ability to memorise and solve problems improving my schoolwork. He simply seemed to love sitting next to me, even if that meant doing homework, and when I got stuck, he’d just frown, grab my book and murmur: _ “Let me see this… Aha!” _  Usually, he’d have the answer that was eluding me within minutes – and no, it wasn’t a problem that I was a year older. He was so clever, I reckon he only let me help him with his Potions homework because he didn’t want to make me feel like a complete useless idiot. 

And of course, last but not least – my Hugh was just the cutest thing ever. I remember him having fans – even older than himself – from his very first year on. Giggles, intentionally loud whispers, and even occasional excited squeals followed him around wherever he went:

_ “Oh, that grumpy-looking redhead with bright blue eyes? Haven’t you heard? He’s the son of Minister Granger and Ron Weasley! How brilliant is that?! Oh, just look at him… isn’t he the cutest with all those freckles?! He’s going to be a huge Quidditch star one day, mark my words! Oh, look how adorably he scrunches up his face… Just you wait until he gets older… that boy’s got “heartbreaker” written all over his face.” _

Yeah, he was definitely giving Jamie, the superstar of our family, a run for his money. My Hugh could have had his pick of friends and, later, lovers – but it never failed to surprise and move me how easily he ignored them all… for me.

He claims he doesn’t remember the occasion, but he got a pile of Valentine cards as a bloody first year student! He tried to hide them from me by throwing them all in the bin, but I’d found them - and to this day, I don’t know how he knew which one came from me, because even though I didn’t sign it, it wasn’t in that discarded pile. He’d spello-taped that one into our diary, and drawn a big smiley face near it, with a large  _ “Thank you!!!” _ underlined three times. His card was stuck in the diary already. It was the only one I got, and… I didn’t dare show it to anyone. You see, my crazy brave Hugh had signed it. It made my heart want to jump out of my chest, and I was smiling goofily for the rest of the day. I might not have flaunted it, but to this day I hold on to it like it’s my most prized possession. 

But it didn’t make me think until much later on, how much that Valentine’s day said about me and my Hugh. He was so bold and so uncompromisingly himself all the time, while I… I didn’t even know who I wanted to be, and the part that I did know, I didn’t like much. All the attention he got didn’t seem to make any difference whatsoever to the man he was growing up to be, but to me… it bothered me and made me uncomfortable. I found the spotlight he was in... unsettling. I would have loved to have him all to myself if I could have but the closer I was drawn to him, the more I became aware how impossible it was going to keep anything between us a secret. 

What was he even doing with me, a sorry loser who couldn’t fly, didn’t excel at anything but – freakishly – Potions, and looked like a pale, second-rate copy of his own celebrated father? How could he ever be proud of being seen with me? Didn’t he know how much better than me he could have done? As he slowly developed into a stunning young man right in front of my eyes, it was becoming hard to ignore how much he was sacrificing, and how many he’d been pushing aside only to be with me. 

I couldn’t quite believe that someone as...  _ glamorous  _ as him found me good enough, when no one else did. I couldn’t. It never used to be hard– and I never really questioned it as a child – but, once I was at left at the mercy of my raging hormones and teenage self-deprecation, I couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d want to be with me. Surely he would grow out of it. Surely he would sooner or later realise that his Allie wasn’t worth much in the eyes of the world. But seeing myself as a loser did absolutely nothing to put out the raging fire of my craving for my Hugh. My heart didn’t care about the opinion I had of myself. 

As I sank into adolescence, I found it impossible to stop myself from daydreaming about those sapphire spell-binding eyes smiling at me, about that soft, supple mouth stretching into one of those stunning, breathtaking smiles meant only for me, and the fantasy of those hard muscles moving under my worshipping hands pretty soon became the only thing that occupied my nights. I realised that I had a problem when I noticed that I’d filled the edges of my parchment with sketches of his face and his name, completely unaware. Sometimes, I was genuinely scared of myself, of where this obsession was taking me… of who I’d become, loving Hugo Weasley so intensely that my life seemed to have no other centre and direction. 

And it didn’t help that I had finally found myself at that desperate, bitter age when I just wanted to be accepted, be… normal… blend in. And with Hugo by my side, there wasn’t going to be any of that. I just saw him from afar, and my heart went wild. Even standing next to him meant a challenge to myself how long I’d manage not to touch him. It was always a struggle not to yield to that irresistible urge to feel the wonderfully warm skin respond to my fingers and have that sexy, slow, insinuating smile melt my brain into goo. A moment of breathing him in, and my crippling shyness was barely a pale memory. Merlin… it got so bad, I barely managed to hold myself back from jumping him. It was terrifying enough that he was a boy… but how could I ever be normal and accepted when the only person that filled my heart with hopeless yearning was my best friend, the most gorgeous person ever… and my cousin? I was as far from normal as anyone could be when I was around him, but rather an exhilarated, love-smitten fool who could barely walk straight by his side... and people were beginning to notice. 

Grandma Molly wasn’t the first one, but she was the first one who seemed to be bothered by it and tried to do something about it. I can just picture her thinking that such unnatural closeness couldn’t be healthy for either of us. So, she’d tried to break us apart… or at least attempted to insert some distance between us in her straightforward way that would surely have been effective, if I had been any less obsessed than I was. But as smitten as I was, she never stood a chance.  _ No one  _ did. And my own reaction scared the shit out of me. 

The sight of those two beds… of that simple yet cruel attempt to take away the most precious thing in my life… I can’t even explain how that made me feel. I instantly felt so torn, fractured, and bloody livid; I could barely believe that such a monster hid beneath my pathetic surface. My fingers were shaking with the barely suppressed desire to hurt her the way she was hurting us… me… and there was barely enough of my rational brain left to whisper frantically at me that she was doing it unwittingly, that she didn’t have a single bad bone in her body, that it wasn’t in her power to take my Hugo from me. 

That last thought – and the sight of his miserable face – was the one that finally gave me the strength to smile at her stiffly and stage my little pretence of being on board with her sorry attempt. But the second she was gone, so was my fragile, crumbling facade. I could see how angry and hurt Hugo was… I could see, and I couldn’t even tell him how I felt because I was afraid I would start screaming and tearing the room apart. My threatened, frightened heart had come up with such a brutal response, it felt as if I had started a war on all fronts at once. 

I somehow managed to communicate to Hugo to move, and I pulled off a spell that never really worked for me at school, perfectly so. But that was it – I had no more normal and casual to give. The rest was all pure savagery of fear, months of pent up, frustrated lust and love so uncompromising and primal, I couldn’t imagine anything other than giving in to it, even if it meant falling apart at the seams. The second I finally let him lay his hands on me, my life exploded into pure chaos made up of the most desperate need to feel, taste, experience and belong to my Hugo, to my blue-eyed angel who marked and claimed me with his very first touch. My Hugh was finally my own, and I no longer had the strength to stop it from happening. 

I couldn’t wait to go back to our room that first evening, I couldn’t wait to extinguish all but that one lone candle and let him press me against the barely-locked door to collect hasty kisses in the half-light… I couldn’t wait to feel his wonderful warm hands roam all over my flushed skin, undressing me so slowly, as if he wanted to give me time to consider what we were up to and allow all my doubts to evaporate. But I wasn’t considering a damn thing. I doubt there was a single rational thought in my head from the second I looked up into those mesmerising blue eyes, lit up in love and fire just for me. I’d come too close to losing him, and I needed this reassurance that I was doing the right thing when I wasn’t willing to let the world tear us apart. I would find my old fears, insecurities, even guilty conscience later, all too soon, but that night, it was too late. 

I simply let myself drown in my Hugh. Oh, god, that first time… If I’d been a bit more of a man that night, I would have given him everything. But I was only an inexperienced boy, shy, high-strung, and so very turned on. I… oh, god, it’s still embarrassing… I barely lasted minutes. But I... I just couldn’t help myself. I had the only boy I’d ever dreamed of all over me, tormenting my neck with that sinful, decadent mouth, gently teasing my nipples to pulsing, hardened peaks, and the second those fingers brushed at my arse, squeezing gently… yeah, you guessed it. I moaned helplessly and just… came. God, I was mortified. Even as I stood pressed against the door, suddenly boneless, and with the delicious heat of ecstasy spreading down my body all too soon, I felt like crying. Even as a lover, I was a failure. No surprise there. 

“I’m sorry…” I whispered in a shaky voice, tears already pooling in my eyes. “I couldn’t…”

But I forgot who I was dealing with. This was not some some casual, horny bastard in pursuit of his own pleasure; this was my Hugh, the love of my life. He tilted my head back gently, kissed the tears off my cheeks one by one, and whispered: 

“Allie, love… don’t cry. It was perfect. A perfect first time. Because you are perfect. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I can’t imagine a better compliment. You’re just the way I love you… so unspoilt… only mine to have. Please don’t cry, love. I swear to god I can come in under a minute just picturing you laugh at my silly jokes and watching your eyes sparkle. You always have me at the very edge, Al. And I can prove it. Want to see how hard I am? Want to watch me wank, love? I’d love to show you… I’d love to take it slow with you… as slow as you can take it.”

I swear, his words made me shiver as if I was feverish, and before I knew it I was at half-mast again. Perhaps I had embarrassed myself that first time, but once my Hugh pressed into me, whispering sweet words of love and admiration into the closed, warm space between us, filled with tenderness and intimacy, I no longer remembered being a failure. Somehow, I just knew I could do better next time… and the next. And another. We were at it the whole night, and the night after that… and always just one more, until the very last night of that unforgettable summer. 

And as he promised, we took it slow… torturously slow. Have you ever felt your body burn like hot coals under curious hands touching you in ways you’ve never dreamt of being touched before? Do you know that savage rush of insane, unstoppable desire that makes you stutter broken pleas and struggle to bite back careless screams? Have you ever had every inch of your skin bristling and afire with such sheer, raw lust you feel as if you were being consumed? I hope so, or you’re not with the right kind of a man. Or woman. Whichever. You’re definitely not with the bloody sex beast my Hugh was. Because that’s what he did to me. One glorious, magical love-making at a time. 

He was turning into a proper sex god with all the practice we were getting, and, Merlin, he was just… insatiable, wasn’t he? And wonderfully patient, insanely eager, daring and adventurous – and so goddamn beautiful as he lay next to me, exhausted, with that victorious look in his brilliant eyes and that sexy, invincible, gentle smile on those tender lips, it was making my heart ache. We tried something different every night, and I just loved it how we got to learn together. We’d read stuff that, uhm, had to do with sex… you know, educational and, er, naughty, and we’d watch these silly adult movies on his old mobile that sometimes made us howl with laughter, but mostly left us feeling desperately horny and in need of quick relief. 

But as we developed a taste for what we loved best, we kept wanting more. The things he did for me…  _ to  _ me… gods… and yet, it was never enough. I was perpetually horny, to the point that I, always Mr. Careful, barely had enough sanity left to avoid being caught in moments of blind passion. I’d finally found out why sex was such a big deal, and it seems as if I tried to fit all the years I longed for my Hugo into a single summer. I was constantly looking for opportunities to be with him, to feel that heady sensation of falling apart under my redheaded devil’s magical hands, and… oh god… that ungodly mouth. We’ve been lovers for years now, but the memory of those early days… all that enthusiasm and hormone-fueled passion, still makes me blush like a virgin. He wasn’t afraid to ask for things I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud to begin with – only to realise that he just had me blurt them out, beg for them while we were driving each other mad. 

And I couldn’t say no to him. I just let him have it all. Save one thing… because I was a coward that way. I let him do everything short of actually fucking me through the floor. Which, of course, he wanted but never pushed for… but I reckon it was probably a good thing that I didn’t let him. Because the way we fuck… well, let’s just say that the poor ol’ Burrow, with its rocky foundations, would have been in grave danger. Those mad sparks between us that feel like hunger and craving rolled in one… uhm, but that’s not the point here. Dammit, I always stray off course when I talk of Hugh. I’m just that… mad about him, I guess.

I can’t imagine a more glorious summer. I remember waking up happy, walking around with a perpetual stupid grin glued to my face and just... simply beaming with happiness. After that failed attempt by Grandma Molly, literally no one tried to stand in our way, as if we were indeed an unbreakable force – and it wasn’t until Dad’s announcement: _ “Time to do some shopping for school, kids; who’s up for a trip to the Diagon Alley?” _ – that it really hit me it was all about to come to an end, and what lay ahead. 

The sudden awareness of what I was about to lose left me devastated. The realisation that we were headed back to school was simply horrifying. You see, I might have gotten more than a little addicted to sex with Hugo, to the wonderful sensual mornings I woke up in his arms, to the nights filled with sweet, sparkling passion, to the sight of poorly-concealed marks of our love-making all over my body that never failed to make me smile and make my heart flutter… and I was about to lose all that. And not just for a year – for good. I wasn’t going back to school after this year – but Hugo was. Merlin only knows how lost and without any purpose I always felt without him – how was I going to survive this?

I clung onto him like I wanted us to melt into each other the last night we were allowed to spend together, and I drank his feverish, passionate promises about still finding the time and chance to be together straight from his mouth. I wanted to keep him so badly I could barely breathe, and I desperately wanted to believe him, but that quiet, vicious inner voice in my brain kept whispering that this was it, that I’d had all of Hugo Weasley I was meant to have, that this was the end of my delusion that I would one day call him my own. The little snake of depression buried in my brain wouldn’t let me envision a future in which we could be together. In those moments I couldn’t imagine ever betraying my feelings for him. But guess what – that’s just what I did.

~

_ Could we, like… not talk about this? Al? Please. It’s all water under the bridge, my love, and you’re ruining yourself and this…  _ everything  _ that we’ve become with these goddamn flashbacks that only make you feel terrible about yourself. And you’re anything but. I know I called you a coward… then… and I won’t go back on that now. It was a cowardly choice, but… but since I’ve been reading this… I understand. I’m just me, you know. It was never hard, and I never cared when someone didn’t like what they were getting. But it seems much harder being you. Especially, being you with me. I never realised what I put you through with my blunt desire to be with you, and only with you, unconcealed, unapologetic, and fuck all prejudices, famous parents, people’s expectations and their fucking unimportant, meaningless opinion. I always only cared about you. _

_ But you… yeah, carrying the weight of the world on one’s shoulders does take a toll, and I should have understood… I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly, I shouldn’t have come down on you so hard. _

_ Forgive me? And forgive yourself, Allie. Because I’ve got nothing left to forgive. It was just a fucking unimportant Yule ball, and we both made poor choices that night. But so much has changed since that night… with that night. If you feel there’s any debt left – you couldn’t have paid it in any better way than by choosing me, living with me, giving me hope that one day, you’ll let me call you my own. For all the world to see. You need to let this go, Al. Please don’t let this suck you into that blasted darkness you sometimes dwell in… please don’t let what we have slip away. _

~


	10. Chapter 10

It happened right after the Halloween. Professor Parkinson had caught me by my elbow after the Potions class, and spoke in that bored, haughty tone of hers: 

“A word, Potter, if you don’t mind…”

Of course I bloody well minded. My Hugh was waiting for me and I’d been looking forward to spending time with him the entire morning, and now this… But I couldn’t really decline, could I? She was the head of our house, and though she’d rip anyone that tried to hurt one of her students to shreds, she was always very strict and fairly cold towards me. It was obvious she preferred some students to others. 

She always seemed to melt like putty around Scorpius, to the point of embarrassment, and  _ “Do give my most sincere regards to your father, dear!”  _ was her standard parting phrase to the confused boy. She seemed to hate Rose even more than she disliked me, but oddly enough, she seemed to respect her and readily gave her a grudging praise for her achievements at the same time. And Hugo… well, it only took one Dung Bomb, strategically dropped in a very hot Ageing potion, and a shrugged  _ “Sorry, Professor, I assure you that wasn’t meant for you, it’s not something  _ you  _ need...” _ – that made her see who she was dealing with. He spent the better part of that month doing detention – and she only made it from the hospital wing in time for the second term, still looking around fifty years old. Whenever she addressed him from then on, she made sure it was always from safely across the room. But she always seemed to coldly ignore me. Until that moment.

“Potter, you’re seventeen now,” she started without hesitation. “And you’re the only male Potter left in school after your brother’s departure. That leaves you with certain… responsibilities, whether you like it or not… and whether you’re up to them or not. You are expected to open the Yule ball this year… and you’ll need a proper dance partner.” 

Believe it or not, my heart nearly froze solid in my chest at her words. I could literally feel my hair rising on my head. I wasn’t… I couldn’t… I didn’t even know how to dance! How could I possibly do this?! The Yule ball has always been just a really nice night of hanging out with Hugo, and occasionally Rose and Scorpius, drinking punch, giggling at some of our school-friends clearly putting too much effort in it, and teasing those who were obviously very invested in a certain boy or girl. But not this. It wasn’t about dancing, about responsibility… about being a Potter. Until now. If only I could...

“Don’t even think it!” she hissed at me so unexpectedly I flinched. “Don’t even think about backing out of it! I’ve waited seven years for this – for someone from Slytherin, the most noble of all houses, to have the honour and take the lead… but no. It always had to be some bloody hero’s child from any of the other houses, and for the last four years it’s always been your brother.  _ “He is the obvious choice, Pansy,” _ Minerva always told me.  _ “He is a Potter and people expect it. Besides – he’s a natural leader, don’t you think? He’s been doing the job marvellously.” _ Well, I’ll let them have their precious Potter this year!” she seethed so viciously I had to stop myself from actually taking shelter.

“ _ You’re _ a Potter,” she continued with an icy sparkle in her eye, “and you’re in  _ my  _ house. I want the honour – and I expect you to cooperate. Surely your parents must expect it as well. As… atypical as you are, you are still a Potter; you carry the name, you must take the responsibility. After all, at the end of this year you’ll exit this noble institution where you lot have been sheltered well enough – and then it will be the cold world out there. I don’t believe you’ll do too badly, with a hero for a father, and your aunty being the Minister and all,” she smirked sickly, as if the thought made her nauseous. “But you need to grow up to be up to it. This is the perfect opportunity for you to shine. Don’t you want to for once? With siblings and relatives such as yours – surely you must have  _ some  _ ambition to be the one everyone looks up to, at least one time?”

If she would have let me get a word in edgewise, I could’ve told her that I’d never had any such craving and never would – that I just wanted to be invisible, average, and normal, if it meant that I could be happy, but my throat had gone dry, and she was all too happy to take my shocked silence for agreement. 

“I knew you would,” she said, suddenly sounding as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Well, I suppose we do have a few weeks to get ready. I’ve got just the girl for you.”

“A girl?” I choked out. “What girl?!”

It wasn’t until then that I properly registered the part when she mentioned having a proper dance partner. I never, ever danced because the whole idea made me feel awkward and clumsy, and even when the slow music began to play, my eyes only ever darted towards Hugh. With a bit of punch down my throat and a couple of glasses of smuggled alcohol taking the edge off my shyness, I could imagine hanging myself around his neck – but the thought was as petrifying as it was alluring. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself once I breathed in the intoxicating scent of that fiery hair, let myself melt into his warm body, and allowed those big, strong hands to close behind me and pull me closer. I just… didn’t have the nerve before this summer, but perhaps I would have been more desperate and bolder my last year? But now Parkinson ruined it all. She even took that dream away from me, and wanted me to go through this horrid evening with a girl… what girl?!

“You’ll have the honour of taking my daughter,” she said adamantly, victoriously, and then I knew that all argument would have been in vain. She was too invested in this.

“Victoria deserves the honour,” Parkinson said sharply, as if she knew I had my doubts. “She’s the most sophisticated and most elegant of all girls in this whole miserable school. But your foolish brother would never take her, and it was not in my power to make him. But you… you will not let me down.”

Of course Jamie never took her! He liked cute, witty, easy-going girls he could have fun with – and as much of an insensitive troll as my brother could be, he always liked his girls kind. Well, Victoria Parkinson might have been as clever, sharp-witted and gorgeous as they came – but she was also vicious, cruel, petty and arrogant – all of it safely behind the teachers’ backs. To go with her… to take that cold, narrow hand in my own, to look into those haughty, judgemental eyes while we danced, and watch the fake, acid, patronising smirk stretch her lips and never reach her eyes – yeah, I was going to be in hell. But she was Parkinson’s only child, the apple of her eye, and my fate was sealed. Only it wasn’t, was it? 

I chose to see it that way. Parkinson didn’t actually have the power to force me into anything. I wasn’t hers to bully, to blackmail, and to control. It wasn’t until much later that I was able to imagine what my Hugh would have done had she approached him with that poorly disguised attempt at an order. Laughed in her face, that’s what he would have done. Taken every bloody detention she had to give, until the end of the year if he needed to. Wrote his mother, his dad, my dad and Rita Skeeter if he had to, to show her she couldn’t make him do anything so cruel and selfish. But I… I didn’t have his strength… I didn’t have his bravery, his self-confidence, or that solid conviction how important it was to stay true to oneself… I didn’t have the courage to say no. I‘d lost myself completely.

I kept thinking about how proud it would probably make Mum and Dad to see me lead the ball, how people were going to stop whispering behind my back what a loser Potter I was, how I was going to have to prove myself sooner or later… how easy it would be, for once, to be someone the world wanted me to be. Just this one dance, one unimportant evening, and then all the evil rumours, mean remarks and vicious whispers would go away, and at the end of the evening when all the formality was over, I would probably be able to quietly slip away from the spotlight into the arms of my Hugh… perhaps even have that dance I couldn’t stop daydreaming about. 

So I whispered a quiet “All right…” before I even fully realised what I was doing, and saw Parkinson’s face stretch into a relieved, satisfied smile that almost made her look human. 

“Very well. I’m most pleased that you chose to be reasonable, Potter. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye after all. We begin tomorrow evening, right after the dinner, with your dancing lessons. It’s not like  _ Victoria  _ needs it, but I suspect you haven’t had much training in the noble art of dancing; therefore, I’ve hired a dancing master to guide you twice a week – and it would be good for you to spend some time with my daughter to get properly acquainted, accustomed to each other, and, well, synchronised. I won’t tolerate sloppiness, Potter. It’s my daughter’s last year at Hogwarts, and I want it to be perfect. Understood? Very well, you may leave.” 

Merlin’s balls, what had I gotten myself into?!

The second I left the classroom, I knew I’d made a mistake – but I didn’t know how to fix it. Gods, I was miserable! And not only because of the silly dancing lessons, where I had to put up with the exasperated dancing master’s screeching and Victoria’s barking, but also because, for the first time in my life, I had a secret from Hugo. I… didn’t tell him. I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. Of course I knew that eventually it was all going to come out – that bloody Yule ball was approaching faster than I could fathom – but somehow I knew I had blown it big time, perhaps too big for any words to set right. But I didn’t even try. And I realised much too late that should have. Honestly, anything would have been better than just dropping the full weight of the news on him unexpectedly. Perhaps explaining him that I’d felt cornered and giving him some time to get used to the idea would have done the trick – but I kept panicking trying to even picture the conversation, and I swear, I’d barely blinked and the evening before the Yule ball was upon us, and I still hadn’t said a word.

But by then, I was out of options. I knew if I didn’t bring it up, he would have, eventually, so I made sure that we were the last ones left in the common room, before I breached the topic.

“So… uhm, what are you doing for the Yule ball?”

His eyes lit up, and I wasn’t quite sure why, but then he smiled that invincible, heart-stopping smile of his, and he shrugged:

“Nothing much,” he said in that warm voice of his. “Drinking a bit of the good smuggled stuff, chatting, you know… the usual. Unless you have other ideas?” And the way he looked at me… with eyes shining with expectation... I finally understood how he’d interpreted my words, and I swear, I felt physically sick. He must have… god and Merlin, he must have thought that was my awkward, clumsy way of asking him. I’m sure I must have looked aghast because suddenly some of that heavenly light from his sapphire eyes faded, and he asked quietly:

“Al… what’s wrong?”

God and his angels, but he knew me so well… I didn’t even have to say anything, and he all but guessed it. There was no way out of it now.

“I’m… going. This year, I’m going, Hugh. Like… I’m going to dance… lead the ball. I’ve…”

“Who?” he wanted to know, and I can’t remember ever seeing him so pale and flabbergasted. “Who did you ask, Al Potter?”

“Victoria,” I said barely above a whisper, and my voice was shaking so badly, I could barely form words. “Parkinson’s daughter. I…”

But suddenly he laughed, a short, absolutely heart-wrenching bark of laughter that sounded almost as if he had yelped in pain, and then he got up abruptly. And there was absolutely nothing in his blue eyes when he looked at me – none of the usual love and tenderness – nothing but absolute heartbreak. 

“You don’t understand…” I said in my shaky voice, suddenly desperate and frantic with terror. “I had to! I’m a Potter, and…”

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Just… don’t, Al. Have fun… with your chosen one.” 

And then he just disappeared quietly up the stairs to the sixth-years’ bedrooms, and I… I couldn’t even move. My limbs seemed made of jelly, and my head was nothing but a can of worms. It was like all the light suddenly drained out of my life, and I was left in the darkness, shivering abandoned and cold. I kept thinking: what the hell… how could I… and god, oh, god, how do I make this right?!

Scorpius found me hours later, after he’d woken up and found my bed empty. He helped me up into our dorm and covered me up, forced some hot tea into me, and sat with me quietly for a while.

“What happened?” he finally asked worriedly, but when I just shook my head, he realised he couldn’t pry a single word out of me, and he was too clever to keep pushing. 

“It’ll be all right,” he said kindly. “It won’t look so bleak and hopeless in the morning.”

But it wasn’t until he’d backed off to his bed and let me be that I whispered to myself:

“I’ve lost my Hugh.”

But the harsh truth still wouldn’t hit me, as if my brain was somehow wrapped in a protective bubble shielding it from the pain, and then I remembered our diary, and I got up frantically and looked inside with shaky fingers.

_ Nothing. _

There was absolutely nothing. For the first time in my life since I had owned it, Hugo had nothing to say to me. And then the pain hit. I wrapped my shivering arms around myself and folded into a cocoon, but all I could think of was that I’d never get wrapped inside Hugo’s arms again, and I let out a silent wail of absolute horror and torment. I could literally feel myself dying inside, and it fucking  _ hurt _ … it hurt like bloody murder. Why would he do this to me?! Why would he let me suffer this way? Why didn’t he come and save me, like he always had?! But I knew why. I didn’t choose him. I’d abandoned him first.

~ 

_ Don’t even remind me, yeah? I told you not to go this way, Al, but you never bloody listen. A part of me died that night that I never got back. My very worst fears came to life the second you said the words: “I’m going”. I instantly knew what you’d done… and I’m not going to lie to you: it still hurts. After all these years, it still does. Because… you kind of keep doing it, Al.  _

_ I love you more than life itself, Allie, my Allie – yet you would never call yourself my own, you’d never call me your boyfriend... you’ll never introduce me as such. My dream of marrying you dies a little every time you tell people: “And this here is my cousin Hugo”.  _

_ They all know what we are, Al, yet you do it because it is so bloody important to you to keep up the veneer of decency and propriety, however fake and thin. Yes, it still hurts that you’d rather have every stranger’s good opinion than hold my hand in front of the whole world and tell everyone: “This is who I love.” _

_ But it’s all right, really. I’ll bear it. I’ll bear it for you. I came too close to losing you that night, and I never want to go that way again. I’d rather have a half-life with you than live a full one with someone else. After all, I do love you so. _

~


	11. Chapter 11

I woke up that morning without knowing when I’d fallen asleep, but exhaustion must have claimed me at some point. At first, I couldn’t even move because I literally had nothing to get up for. The horror of the Yule ball was upon me, and I’d lost my Hugh. 

More out of habit than any real hope, I checked my diary again, and there was nothing, not a single word. I didn’t even feel disappointed; I’d lost all hope by then.

It wasn’t until Scorpius asked his gentle: 

“Are you all right, Al?” that I found the strength to shake my head weakly and told him I was feeling a bit off. 

“I think I’ll skip breakfast,” I told him, sounding rusty from all the fucking tears I’d cried. The very thought of food made me feel nauseous, and I was afraid I’d crack if I had to put up any kind of an act. 

But then Scorpius said: “Perhaps he’ll be there… and you can talk it through.”

And I could only stare. How did he know? How could he possibly… But I had no strength to deny it. 

“How… did you know?” I choked out, and he smiled sadly.

“I think everyone knows,” he said quietly. “When he’s around you simply… glow.”

And here I was thinking how well I’d kept my secret...

“No one cares, you know,” Scorpius shrugged. “I know for a fact Rose doesn’t. And if anyone isn’t fine with it,” he chuckled, “do you actually think someone in this school has the guts to speak out? To Hugo? You’ve got to be joking! I wouldn’t face him holding the Elder Wand! I dare say your boyfriend is a proper beast!”

I can’t even describe the feeling of hearing Scorpius use that word. A surge of utter exhilaration, fear, excitement, and warmth surged through me – and the second later it was all gone, and there was nothing left but a cold, stabbing pain.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said quietly, and then the truth just poured out of me like a toxic stream. “I lost him. I… oh, god… I promised Parkinson I’d take her daughter to the Yule ball. She choked me with being a Potter and having responsibilities... and making my parents proud. I… I’m always such a loser. I thought for once…. So I said yes, but then I didn’t tell him… I knew I’d done something stupid and then I didn’t know  _ how  _ to tell him. And before I knew it, I’d been keeping a secret from my Hugo for nearly a month, but yesterday… It had to come out, yeah? So I told him… very clumsily… I handled it terribly… and he took it hard. He… he just left me.  _ MerlinChrist _ , Scorpius, what am I going to do?! I can’t live without him! I don’t know how! I… don’t want to.”

“Oh, blast, Al…” From the way he ran his fingers through his blond hair nervously, I could tell that he thought I’d fucked up royally, and didn’t know how to help me. 

“Wait… just wait here. I’m going to get Rose… smuggle her in somehow… everyone’s going to be at their classes anyway, and you’ll have some privacy to talk things over. She’s his sister… and she’s bound to be much better at this sibling-crisis management than I. Just… don’t do anything radical, yeah? Don’t move!”

It wasn’t like I had the strength to. 

A few minutes later, he indeed let Rose in, and by the way he hurried out of the room, I could tell things weren’t looking good. I only looked at my cousin’s stormy eyes, and my heart sank deeper. She couldn’t help me. No one could. 

“What the fuck did you do, Albus Severus Potter?!” she hissed so viciously I would have jumped if I had any strength left. 

“I… Hugo… what did he tell you?” I asked, suddenly desperate to hear how he was doing, something about him, anything – anything to feel he hadn’t completely disappeared out of my life.

“Not a damn thing… but I’ve never seen my brother hide his face in his hands, sobbing like the world was ending. Jesus, you idiot, you just went and crushed his heart, didn’t you?! Just like he was always afraid you would.”

“Wha – ?” I had no idea what she was on about.

“You know, I’ve always admired you,” she said with surprising calmness, and I confess she shocked the wits out of me. “You were always a bit different, so very much unlike everyone else, so… your own. You didn’t even have to try to prove the world that there’s more to you than being a Potter or a Weasley – you just… were. Yourself. I used to  _ love  _ that about you. And I envied you… god, I envied you both,” she smiled sadly. “The way you only saw one another, the way you were so clearly meant for each other – and you knew it, no doubts whatsoever. The way you were able to withstand all the mocking and pressure in order to be with each other – what’s not to admire and envy?” she said almost angrily. “You were taking the road Uncle Harry and Dad, two brave Gryffindors, didn’t have the guts to – and you were just going and going strong – and I’ve always wondered when you were finally going to acknowledge what you were and tell the world. I have… but Hugo hasn’t.”

“What – what do you mean?” I stammered out, and somehow her words made me sit up in my bed. How was there a facet of my Hugh that I had no idea about? 

She looked at me with sadness in her eyes and told me as bluntly as only Rose could:

“Hugo always knew you were the weak link. There’s not a single crack in my brother’s armour, he’s as beautiful, strong, unique and as wholesome a creature as they come – he reminds me of Aunt Luna sometimes... and you’re his only weakness. He’d sell his soul for you – and if he could have it his way, he’d tell the whole world about you two, and stand up to it if he had to. But you… as sublime and unique as you are, Al Potter, you always seem to want to hide it, to apologise for it… as if you’re ashamed of it. Of who you are… and of what you are with Hugo.”

“I’m not…” I started, but then I shut the hell up because I was too mortified for words. I’d just realised she was right. 

“Oh, yes you are,” she said in a hard voice. “Don’t worry, Hugo knows that – he knows you so well. And he’s hurt. He’d love to hold hands with you, hug you, kiss you in public, tell everyone about you two, scream it from the church towers as it were… but he’s keeping it quiet for you. It’s killing him to pretend like this – and I know that for a fact because I asked him about it. He told me he was afraid to ask you for more because you never offered... and he might lose you. He’d take scraps from you, he would, if that meant he could keep you – but would it hurt your fucking fragile ego so fucking much to acknowledge your relationship for once?!” she barked, suddenly livid again. And then she narrowed her eyes just like Aunt Hermione sometimes would before she went for the jugular, and I instinctively cringed, knowing that it was coming my way.

“You never did tell me what you did… and neither did he. He just shook his head, told me not to bother, and left when I tried to find out more. But you’re not going anywhere before you tell me what you did, Al Potter!”

“I… I didn’t know… I invited Victoria Parkinson to the Yule ball,” I finally admitted, and when I saw a flabbergasted, appalled look in her eyes, I added quickly: “I didn’t want to… I mean, it wasn’t my idea. Parkinson… Professor Parkinson made me. She knows they’ll agree with Potter opening a ball – and I’m the only one left. It’s all for the glory of her daughter, I’m sure, but she told me I was a Potter, it was expected, and I… I said yes.”

By the time I was finished, my voice was so tiny it was barely audible, and Rose’s eyes had turned into a proper storm.

“You bloody fool!” she hissed. “You fool! You don’t even know what you’ve done! Poor Hugh, no wonder… You goddamn idiot! Do you know, Albus Severus Potter, that my brother has taken a set of finest Yule ball robes with him every bloody year since the second year, hoping that perhaps this would be the year when you asked him?!”

Her lips were shaking in impotent rage, and her eyes were full of angry tears, and my heart sank to the pits of hell. I was crushed.

“Every year. Every bloody year he was hoping… and every goddamn year he ended up with nothing. But  _ “Never mind, Rosie,”  _ he’d tell me, being all horrible at trying to mask his disappointment.  _ “It’s not like he asked anyone else either. We were just hanging around together… you know, like friends...” _ He almost had to fend off suitors with a bludger – boys and girls, if you really want to know – but he only wanted you. He only waited for you to find your fucking guts, to ask him. But of course, you wouldn’t, you coward!” she hissed so viciously I jumped. 

“You made him go through this one last humiliation as well, you selfish, blind bastard! Not only you did not acknowledge him – for your last year at this goddamn school, you thought it would be a good idea to distinguish yourself by inviting the biggest, most cold-hearted bitch instead of the boy who’s loved no one but you since he was three fucking days old! Oh, fuck you, Al Potter, I’ve got a good mind to hex you myself… but I’m fairly sure that seeing Hugo with someone else will be punishment enough.”

“I… what?” Suddenly my heart was beating madly in my throat, and I got up abruptly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, this morning, just before he’d stormed out, I wanted to know where he was going, and his last words to me were:  _ ‘To get ready for the Yule ball. I’ve changed my mind. I’m going’.  _ His very words, Al!”

And my body literally seized up as if I’d been punched.

“He’s going…” I couldn’t believe it. Hugo was going to the Yule ball... and he wasn’t going with me. And suddenly I understood what Rose’s angry words failed to convey – I understood and felt to my very core what I’d put Hugo through: I was going to have to watch him hold someone else’s hand, smile at someone else, dance with someone else... and he was going to be completely beyond my reach. And everything just died inside me. 

~

_ I… Well, I was livid. And hurt. And humiliated. And 16 years old, and head over heels in love with you… and you crushed my hopes and my heart. I have no other excuse. I just wanted to punish you; I wanted to show you I could do without you… I wanted to hurt you. The way you’d hurt me.  _

_ And it worked… just a little too well. I never meant to cause you the guilt you’ve been carrying inside ever since, Al. That wasn’t my intention… and I‘d take it away if I could. God knows I could never watch you suffer for long – and it’s been years now. It’s time to let it go, love. _

~


	12. Chapter 12

If I could have skipped going, I would have. I wouldn’t even have to lie about being ill – I felt feverish and weak like an old man, and I’d spent the better part of the day in bed, praying to all the gods I knew to somehow let me get out of the mess I’d made. But naturally, I had no such luck. Scorpius came up after lunch to tell me that Professor Parkinson had been asking about me, looking positively livid and ready to come and drag me out of my bed, if she had to. God, would that harpy never just let me be?! But I reckoned I could be half-dying and she’d find a way to make me take her precious daughter to the ball, so I somehow got up, and dragged myself to the shower. When I looked in the mirror, I almost scared myself: I looked like the death warmed over. There was a greyish, dull tinge to my skin, and for once my eyes lost all their famous Potter lustre.

Parkinson had arranged for the finest robes to be delivered to me, and though as a proud, cultured pure-blood she had impeccable taste, I still looked like a corpse dressed up for its own fancy funeral. I felt like one as well. But then I thought of seeing Hugo again, whatever the circumstances, and my heart responded with such erratic beating, my vision actually blurred for a second. How was I ever going to go through life without my Freckly when I’d only been missing him less than a day, and even breathing already seemed like an effort?

Scorpius came to pick me up, and he looked even more dapper and elegant than usual. I just knew that Rose was in for a fantastic evening – and then he motioned me to join him while searching through his dresser, and my eyes almost popped out. He had a small silver box ready, and when he opened it, there was a breathtaking diamond ring glowing softly against the black velvet background.

“It’s for Rosie,” he said softly, as if he really needed to explain. “We’re both seventeen now, and I… well, I’ve loved her since I was eleven, haven’t I?” he smiled that goofy, smitten smile he could never hide when he was talking about Rose. “I want to get engaged before our jobs, our careers and the oh-so-glamorous future drags us apart. I don’t want anyone but her, and I don’t want to risk losing her. I know we’re young, but I can wait, and I know there’s a good chance she’ll say no tonight – but I decided to make my intentions known to her anyway. My father will be here tonight – he has some business with McGonagall – so if she accepts, I could ask his consent directly. Not that it would change my decision in any way,” he shrugged, “but I would appreciate it.”

“But what if…”

“... she says no? Well, I decided not to be crushed,” he said firmly. “My Rose is rash and full of that “oh, I want to live my life to the fullest” rubbish. I’m ready to explain I won’t let the engagement stand in the way of that. But even if she says no – I won’t let that stop me. She’s the one, Al, and sometimes, a man has to put everything on the line for the one he loves. And, as you know, I do love my Rosie,” he said simply, glowing with that quiet confidence that was anything but flashy, but still very much there, and an integral part of the quiet, precious creature who was Scorpius Malfoy.

I just knew that Rose – very much Uncle Ron’s daughter in emotions and affection – wouldn’t be able to say no. She’d be a fool to – and my cousin was no fool. If only life had been so simple for me… and the one I loved. 

I just nodded, feeling so miserable and hurt I wasn’t sure I would be able to form words , but I put my best effort in it anyway:

“It’s a gorgeous ring, mate, and she’s going to love it. She’d be a right fool to decline an offer like that.”

His face literally lit up like a torch at my encouraging words, but as a Malfoy, he tended to keep his feelings to himself, and he quickly reined them in.

“Yes, well… I remain hopeful,” he said humbly, before turning to me with genuine concern in his eyes.

“But what about you?” he wanted to know. “Will you be all right?”

“Yeah…” I tried with a sore, dry throat, but I couldn’t even sell it to myself. “I’ll just… go and… take her… take Victoria dancing… hang around for a while until everyone is having way too much fun to care, and then I’m going to slip back to the dorm for an early evening. I don’t think I can…”

I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t want to blurt it out because it would sound so bloody pathetic, but I didn’t have the strength to watch Hugo just…  _ be  _ with someone else, and it didn’t even matter if he was going to dance, laugh, or just hang out with them. Just seeing him and not being able to reach out… God, my stomach squeezed into a tight ball of misery, and I yelped hastily:

“Let’s just go. I want to get this evening over with.”

But Scorpius didn’t move.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” he demanded stubbornly, and his persistence, when he was normally always so tactful and considerate, was highly unusual. “Why don’t you approach him, apologise and tell him about Parkinson? Surely, he would understand.”

My heart fluttered at his proposal, but then that last look in Hugo’s eyes swam into my memory, that look of absolute wretchedness and loss, as if he had already given up on me – and my heart sank even lower.

“Why do you care?” I snapped, because I had nothing but sorrow to give that evening. “You don’t know Hugo like I do. He’s so… uncompromising and brave. He’d never understand. And I hurt him… deeply,” I shuddered, and then spilled what Rose told me. “Rosie said he’d been waiting for me to ask him ever since his second year, and I… didn’t. I wanted to – but I never did… Because I’m a goddamn coward… God...”

My voice was shaking so badly it broke, and then I just blurted out my worst nightmare:

“He’s going, you know… with someone else. I’ve lost him. And I’ve got nothing to give to win him back, sorry loser that I am. I haven’t got precious rings to impress him, I’m not smart, or brave or stunning. I’ve got nothing. I’m such a nothing without him.”

“You could always try your heart,” Scorpius said quietly, “Hugo’s not the one for rings and glamour, but he would never say no to that.” 

And I confess, his words took my breath away. I… but I’d already given him my heart! Surely he had to know how bonkers I was about him! Even Rose told me everyone knew! Surely he…

“Potter!” the bark came so unexpectedly, I nearly jumped to the ceiling. Parkinson was standing in the doorway, and livid as she appeared to be, she clearly didn’t even bother with knocking. But when she spotted Scorpius, her demeanour softened a bit, and she even managed a small smile. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” she said, “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to borrow Potter here for this evening. Better hurry up; as the lead of the ball you’re expected to be greeting everyone.”

As soon as the door closed behind us, her demeanor soured again:

“What were you thinking leaving my daughter to wait for you all by herself?! She’s been standing there for quarter of hour already, and you were nowhere to be found!”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I wasn’t feeling very well today. I suppose I’m coming down with something. It happens every winter.”

“Oh, I suppose it no longer matters since you’re here after all,” she huffed, dismissing my apologies with an imperious wave of her hand. “At least you had the decency to get dressed up. You’ll never be as elegant as Scorpius – I swear that boy is an image of his father at that age, not a drop of that odd Greengrass blood in him – but you’ll do. I suppose that hair can’t be helped,” she sighed, looking at me as if I had tentacles growing out of my head, “but I imagine that’s expected from a Potter. A bit of a trademark of yours, if you like….”

She kept spitting acid remarks about everyone and everything and it wasn’t hard to see she was uncommonly agitated and nervous, but my head was too full of mad, swirling thoughts knocking into each other until I could no longer make sense of the world. 

Was Scorpius right? Could I still undo the mess I’d made? I was utterly miserable without my Hugh – and he knew me so well, he knew I was a coward, maybe he would understand… Perhaps Rose misunderstood him? Maybe he was just going to the ball alone, to hang out with classmates like we used to – god knows he always had choice enough… Was there really hope? Could I still make this right? Suddenly the evening no longer seemed so bleak and hopeless. I would find my Hugh, somehow find the words to explain, and perhaps there was a chance…

“Finally!”

Victoria’s hiss was so vicious, I jumped. I looked at her, and as attractive as she was with her long blond hair done up intricately and in the sparkling blue dress that accentuated her curves and brought out the blue hue of her eyes – I could see nothing but her acerbic demeanour and the ice in her eyes, and I nearly shivered. I could totally understand James for once – I didn’t want to take her to the dance either. She looked about ready to devour me.

“What took you so long, you wretched fool?!” she barked, albeit silently enough for my ears only. “I told you to make something of that hair for once – you look as if a rat nested in it!”

“Victoria, stop it!” her mother interfered surprisingly, and though there was no understanding in her blue eyes, there was some sort of concern. “You’re making him even more nervous, and it can come back to haunt you. Besides, I told you that was no behaviour for a lady! You will stop now, or I will personally find you someone else to dance with – and I assure you, I intend to make you regret my choice!”

“Oh… very well then,” Victoria pouted. “I wish it wasn’t him, though. He’s short, almost shorter than I – so unlike James, really – and I’d be much more comfortable if I was with a taller boy… oh… such as that one… oh, Merlin...” 

Her jaw fell open, and she was staring at something, someone behind my back, and when I saw Parkinson turn as well and gasp silently, I turned to see what got their attention – and my breath got stuck in my throat. 

Hugo was coming down the stairs, and he… he was a vision. I still… I can’t… oh, blast. I still wank to that image of him, I’ll have you know. Gone was the lanky boy with bright red hair, usually sporting a messy ponytail, and a sloppy school uniform or hiding his broad shoulders in one of his casual, inconspicuous Muggle shirts with those long legs in tattered jeans. Tonight, Hugo Weasley came out as a proper beast of a man he always was under his casual demeanor, and everyone just… stared. 

His fiery hair was arranged in an elaborate plait, not unlike the one I saw Scorpius’s father Draco sporting on some occasions, and it shone like molten lava against his pitch black attire. His robes looked every bit like a formal Auror uniform, with the long black jacket reaching the middle of his thighs, and silver clasps across his wide chest making his shoulders look a mile across. The silver runes woven into the Russian collar of his jacket were the only bit of colour on him, while in the polished dragonhide boots that were as black as the rest of his attire, his legs looked endless and muscled, as if they belonged to a proper professional Quidditch player. He was paler than usual, but that only made his adorable freckles and those astonishing eyes stand out more. He was to die for. 

I literally forgot how to breathe. And I wasn’t the only one. The corridor in front of the Great hall, moments ago filled with excited chatter, fell silent in awe. And I only had one thought beating frantically against my skull while my heart pounded madly in my chest: I could have had that. I could have had it years ago. Instead, those brilliant blue eyes, sparkling in the candlelight like proper gems, stared right through me as if I wasn’t even there, as breathtaking as always but completely emotionless. In that moment, I knew all was lost, and the only thing that stopped me from hitting the ground was the fact that I was already holding Victoria’s arm; I had put my full weight on her, when my knees nearly buckled.

“Please,” I wanted to say. “Please, Hugo, don’t do this.” But I had no words and no strength left. And it wouldn’t have mattered – I knew that merciless, diamond-hard look in his eyes; that one was reserved for any sorry fool who dared to cross him. And tonight, that was me. If someone had picked me up and crumpled me like a discarded piece of parchment, I couldn’t have felt more wretched and worthless.

“Well… well, Weasley, don’t you look dashing today,” Parkinson spoke somewhere to the side of me, and she sounded as stunned as she did furious. I think she might have realised she’d made a colossal blunder in her choice of partner for her precious daughter: the spectacle of the Minister’s handsome son with her beautiful daughter on his arm would surely have made front page news now that the wizarding world lived in peace once again. 

“Why the black, though?” she barked, as if she was all out of good ideas about how to make Hugo seem less glamorous. “You almost look ready for a funeral, dear boy.”

“I suppose you could say I’m in mourning,” he said calmly, and his warm, manly voice woke up a yearning inside me I could not describe, sending ripples of sickness through my body. I wanted to reach out to him and touch him so badly, it was making me ill. “You see, I’ve lost something I’m not getting back, and this is my way of saying goodbye.”

He might as well have swung one of his massive fists and hit me. I literally saw black. He was saying goodbye to me, to us, to what we had...

“I see,” she said, suddenly sounding uncomfortable at his cryptic words, as if she was agitated that she couldn’t read him, the way most people couldn’t. “But surely you’re not going to dance with yourself, are you?”

“Of course not,” he said calmly. “But my date is a bit shy and… oh, here she comes.”

And Victoria’s tiny, decorated handbag was not the only thing hitting the floor. 

Amelia Skeeter was the biggest pariah in the entire school. Most of the parents had one resentment or another towards her vile mother, and wherever she went, she was met with suspicion that she was somehow spying on the students on her mother’s behalf. I’m sure her unpleasant yet resourceful mother had other informants than her unfortunate, quiet daughter, but whenever a piece of overblown news of this, that, or the other tiny, absurd Hogwarts scandal appeared in the  _ Prophet _ , she was the first to be blamed. It didn’t help that no one knew who her father was – which was a bit… unusual in a wizarding community filled with gossip – and on top of everything, she was as unremarkable and shy as her mother was loud and obnoxious. A Hufflepuff, clearly unhappy and shunned, she resorted to food, and she was gaining too much weight to be considered attractive. It was safe to say that she didn’t have a single friend in Hogwarts, and I’d never seen her attend anything outside of school, not a single Quidditch match, let alone a Yule ball. 

But she was here tonight – and, god, she was  _ radiant _ . I don’t know who helped her pick her long, silky white gown, but it hid most of her imperfections and showed off her impressive bust, which I was sure no one’s bothered to notice before. It made her look as if she was flowing down the stairs. Someone had done her make-up, subtly and perfectly so, and unlike Victoria, whose heavy smoky eyes made her look as if she’d been punched in the face, Amelia looked as if she had suddenly blossomed to life. For the first time, I noticed her soft blue eyes, cute dimples, and a shy, lovely smile that transformed her round face into something beautiful. I just gulped and stared. Unlike most people, who couldn’t make sense of Hugo, I recognised his message immediately, and like everything about this godforsaken evening, it was meant for me:  _ I can make anyone shine. If only it was you, we would have been this – and so much more.  _

My heart was beating with such speed, I was seeing spots in front of my eyes, and I’d been biting my lip bloody to hold back a scream. This was  _ wrong _ . This was so very wrong, as if I had woken up in my own nightmare. Hugo wouldn’t look at me, and he was going to dance with another… he was going to make someone else’s evening unforgettable. As background noise, I registered the excited whisper that erupted as Amelia carefully descended down the stairs, mindful of every step as she was clearly unused to her long gown. But I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was as if someone had hexed me to freeze within the scariest moment of my worst nightmare, and the only thing that seemed to move was the queasy feeling of sickness that permeated my entire body like the plague.

“Well… here I am,” she said as she finally stopped in front of Hugo, and I realised I’d never heard her talk before. She had a pleasant enough voice, but I hated the sound of it, I hated  _ her  _ with vibrant, sickly passion, as much as one can hate the person who had crushed their every dream. And Hugo just smiled to her – he smiled for the first time that evening, and it seemed genuine and pleased, as if he had somehow convinced himself that he was doing the right thing. Like always, it made his eyes sparkle like sapphires, and it made her cheeks flush even more brightly. God, I didn’t think I could loathe her more, but I was ready to claw her eyes out. My guts were churning with the feeling of the hot bile building up inside me, and I could barely move. 

“So you are,” Hugo said warmly, and when he brought her hand to his lips to kiss it, I swear there was a barely hushed collective squee on the part of all the girls present. I didn’t even have to look at them to know every last one of them wanted to be in Amelia’s place. Most of the boys in Hogwarts were like me – still very much boyish, immature and awkward in fancy robes, but Hugo… Hugo was born for this, he was like a real man in the midst of schoolboys, and even James would have been hard pressed to match him tonight. And it hurt like acid on a fresh wound to know that it was all for me – and then it wasn’t.

“You are absolutely gorgeous tonight,” I heard Hugo’s voice say warmly, firmly, as if it was a fact, and she flashed such a grateful, beaming smile, I could tell he had managed to make her feel like a princess with those few choice words. 

“Madam Malkin truly does work wonders,” she said in a quiet, shaky voice. “I’m afraid I haven’t given her much to work with.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hugo said softly, and he sounded so genuine and kind it immediately brought tears to her eyes. “You are as lovely as they come. It’s not all about an expensive gown and fitting the standards of flawless beauty. It takes courage to come as you are – believe me, I know – and as far as I’m concerned you came out here to shine tonight, and I’m here to make it happen.”

She smiled gratefully again, but something in his eyes went dark, and he spoke with a subtle edge probably only I could hear: 

“I expect we will start soon… as soon as my  _ cousin  _ Albus here feels ready to take his chosen one to the podium and show off his dancing skills. I was told he’s been quite busy practising for weeks, surely to impress the lovely creature he was taken with enough to invite to the ball,” he said calmly, not even looking at me.

“Hugo… oh, bloody hell...” I recognised Rose’s sigh quietly somewhere in the back, but by that point I was beyond help. His words, cruel and merciless, were the last straw, and I tore my hand out of Victoria’s and rushed towards the bathroom so I wouldn’t be sick all over the floor. 

“A bit of nerves at work,” I heard Parkinson’s nervous laughter behind me before the door closed. I barely made it. I vomited every bit of my regret and sorrow into that bloody sink, and still my stomach kept heaving as if there was no end to my misery. I had no strength left, and no will to keep breathing. 

But then the door opened with a crash, and a second later someone splashed a large quantity of water straight into my face. Pulling me up to my trembling knees would have been no easy feat for a livid Victoria Parkinson – but she didn’t need strength, did she? She flicked her wand and barked a spell, and I was suddenly as straight as an arrow, and levitating about a foot above the ground.

“You bloody fool!” she hissed so venomously I actually floated away in the air a foot or two, as if her malice had managed to blow me away. “You weak, pathetic little idiot! You are  _ so  _ not going to rob me off my last chance to shine, and I don’t care if my mother hexes me into a bloody rabbit at the end of this evening for going after a Potter! This was supposed to be my grand evening,  _ mine _ , as your brother would never give me one, and I’d sooner hex you into the Dark Ages than have it ruined. Why, oh why did my dumb mother have to pick you?! It should have been him, the Weasel, no matter how deranged he is, but she said he scared the wits out of her and that you were the weak link.  _ ‘You’ll be going with a Potter, Victoria dearest, _ ’ she told me.  _ ‘The times are such that they don’t come better than that.’  _ And just look at you now, you wreck of a person!”

“You don’t understand…” I tried in a shaky voice, sounding as if there was barely any life left in me. “She made me… how was I supposed… I wanted to be with someone else… Hugo…”

“Hugo, Hugo, Hugo… of course you wanted to be with Hugo, you crumbling half-wit!” she barked. “You and the rest of the school! Oh, don’t think anyone could have missed those lovey-dovey eyes and the foolish smile on your face when he was around. You kept following him around like a lost puppy, for Merlin’s sake – did you really think no one would notice?! There were bets out there if you were finally going to find your balls and take him to the bloody ball for once! Don’t worry, you haven’t lost me any galleons, I always knew you were a coward,” she smiled coldly, and my heart shrank to a miserable charred pebble.

“But you won’t be one tonight. It’s not my fault if you managed to screw up what you had with that stud out there – what is done, is done and I won’t let you ruin my evening over it. Take it as a penance for your folly, if you must, but take me out there, or I swear, Albus Severus Potter, I’m going to go out there and let it slip to Hugo that we were making out!”

I stared at her, wide-eyed. How could someone be so damn evil?!

“He’d never believe you…” I started in a shaky voice, but she merely huffed at me dismissively and laughed heartlessly. 

“After the mess you’ve made, can you be certain?” she said slyly, and whatever was left of my defiance immediately deflated. She was right. I’d betrayed Hugo, his trust and his love – he had every reason to believe the worst of me. After that, I just nodded in defeat because I was kind of dead inside. It wasn’t her fault that I’d been a cowardly fool from the beginning. My evening… my life was ruined, no matter how much I mourned, and there was no escaping from what I’d done. I might as well give her what she wanted; it wouldn’t make any bit of difference whatsoever. I’d already lost Hugo. But even though I knew that I deserved everything that was coming to me during that wretched ball, my heart wouldn’t take it quietly. My brain seemed to be pounding painfully against my skull, my hands were ice-cold and clammy, and my whole being seemed to be rebelling against seeing Hugo with someone else, as if I simply wasn’t made to take so much wrong. If I’d had anything left to throw up, I would have been at it again.

But there was no going back, not with Victoria already slapping colour into my deathly pale cheeks, drying my face and sorting out my clothes with a speed the indicated a lot of experience, her mouth pressed into a cold, thin, resentful line the whole time. It barely took her a minute before she finally barked: “Ready?” 

It was a rhetorical question, and she didn’t wait for my answer – she knew I was as ready as I was ever going to be, which was – not at all. 

The second I saw Hugo, I was in for a shock. He was looking towards the door, directly at me, and for a second our eyes met. And even though he didn’t say a single word, and turned around quickly, as if he couldn’t care less – I recognised that look in his eyes, and if Victoria hadn’t been clutching my hand as she was, I would have torn away from her and flown towards him to beg his forgiveness. You see, he still cared, he still worried about me. He saw how sick and miserable I was, and under the sadness, anger and restlessness in his precious eyes, there was genuine concern about me. Perhaps I would have taken the evening better, if I hadn’t seen it – but I had, and it drove me absolutely wild. Because hope came with it, and it wouldn’t let me be apathetic; it kept me alive inside – and in pain.

“Finally!” Parkinson hissed at me when we approached her, and the relief on her face was so obvious, it would have been comical under different circumstances. “Hurry up, the pair of you, Headmistress McGonagall has been here already, checking if everything was as it should be.”

If this were a normal evening, and I’d ended up the centre of attention, I’d have been nervous beyond compare. But as it was, I could hardly tell what I was up to. I barely noticed how the Great Hall glittered festively. I also could not have cared less that everyone’s eyes were on me. I honestly doubt I knew where I was going. I just kept tagging along at Victoria’s side like a lamb being led to the slaughter, and to this day, I don’t know if I followed any of the dance master’s desperate instructions or not a single one. I just moved my legs, not even trying to accommodate my seething dancing partner, and for all I know, I might have made a proper fool of myself in front of everyone. 

But you see, it didn’t matter; I’d finally stopped caring. I didn’t care about the icy, gorgeous Victoria swaying in my arms elegantly, I didn’t care about Parkinson staring at me like a hawk, ready to hex me if I embarrassed her precious daughter. I didn’t care about anyone that wasn’t Hugo. Victoria had to sink her nails into my hand several times to stop me from turning my head in the direction of my Freckly. He was like the sun to me, dangerous and irresistible. There was an actual collective gasp when he led Amelia into the Great hall by the hand like a queen, and it was like a knife to my heart seeing her radiant smile, and the way he looked at her and smiled for her, proud because he’d made her so happy. 

That was my Hugh, right there. Just the way Scorpius put it – he wasn’t one for glamour, and he would never have taken the prettiest girl out. But if he could light up someone’s life, if only for a single evening, enough to give them joy that left a sweet memory, he would. And I’d lost that. I’d lost my chance to be that person. God, he was gorgeous. I don’t think there was a girl or a boy in the Great Hall that didn’t stare at him that night, as if he was some sort of deity among us mortals – but no one stared more than I did. I might have left nail marks Victoria’s hands more than once when Hugo leant down to his glowing dancing partner to whisper something in her ear, fixed a naughty curl behind it, or simply chuckled at her words – and it had been too much to take.

“Stop it… just bloody stop it!” Victoria finally hissed at me when I once again squeezed her fingers like a vice upon seeing Hugo lift Amelia and spin her up in the air as if she weighed nothing. Her happy, exhilarated laughter rained down on me like acid, and I was so wrecked I didn’t even notice getting rough with Victoria. She quickly dragged me from the dancing podium into a corner upon a pretence of grabbing a drink, and her expression was stormy.

“You are going to mangle me completely before this evening is over, you miserable fool!” she barked at me as soon as we had some privacy. “I’d ask what your problem is, but there’s no need, is there? You can’t take your bloody eyes off him, and I’m paying for your idiocy. Why, oh why didn’t you ask him, if you find him so precious?! Even my mother couldn’t force you to take me if you were already engaged!”

For the first time since we’d started dancing I looked at her, like, really looked at her, and underneath her sour, cranky, exasperated expression, there seemed to be a sparkle of genuine interest.

“Well… he’s my cousin, isn’t he? And a boy,” I said awkwardly, and now that I’d spoken them out loud, my reasons didn’t seem to bear  _ that  _ much weight. “I’m unexceptional and always falling short of everyone’s expectation as it is, forever the odd one out in a family brimming with over-achievers. I guess I just didn’t want to bring too much attention to… to…” 

Merlin, I didn’t even know what to call it, and it made me feel like even more of a loser. We’d never called it a relationship, hell, we never even talked about it! We simply were. Always together, meant for each other.

“Love,” Victoria said unexpectedly, and startled me completely. “It’s called love, you dolt. Everyone could see just how bonkers you were about each other. This fucking love… I swear it ruins everything. It ruined my life before I was even born,” she said darkly, sounding strangely strangled and, well… human. I had no idea what she was on about, of course. 

“Want to hear something funny?” she asked suddenly, and her face stretched into a sort of grimace, almost as if she was in pain. “Well, not funny, but a tad horrible. Something that will put that ridiculous self-induced misery of yours into perspective. What’s my name, Al Potter?”

Huh?!

“Go on, say my name!” she urged me, with that small, miserable smile in the corner of her mouth.

“Victoria,” I said confused, thinking that all that bitterness and malice was perhaps a sign of mental illness.

“My full name!” she barked icily but there was a strange vulnerability in those grey-blue eyes, hiding under a heavy layer of glamorous make-up.

“Victoria… Parkinson,” I said, and it finally dawned on me what she was aiming at. 

“Parkinson, yes,” she said, and her tone was heavy, deadly. “Not Malfoy, as it should have been… but Parkinson.”

“Wha – ?!” Suddenly nothing made sense anymore… and a lot of other things suddenly did. Professor Parkinson’s obvious favour towards Scorpius, Victoria’s extraordinary silver-blond hair, her desperate desire to stand out...

“But why? How?”

I’d met Mr. Malfoy, Scorpius’ father, before. He had formed a sort of grudging friendship with my dad and Uncle Ron over the years, and he seemed a tad reserved, yet a decent man. I was aware of the mistakes he had made in the past, as everyone coming across The History of Magic was, but as Uncle Ron mumbled once:  _ “We were all very young, and sort of foolish back then – you couldn’t deliver a message that there was something good in Malfoy with a bludger to my head in those times... but I guess he’s turned out all right.” _ Draco Malfoy just... didn’t seem like the type of a man who would abandon a woman carrying his child, whatever the circumstances.

“Not the Malfoy you’re thinking of,” she finally whispered, and gulped heavily, as if this was extremely hard for her. “My mother was engaged to be married to Scorpius’ father at one point. But his insane, vicious father, who had taken to drinking heavily after the war, raped her one night after a party – and blamed her for it,  _ “the flirting little tart that she always was”, _ as he put it. And she hadn’t the heart to tell Draco about it – she really does love that man more than is good for her. His parents were everything he had left in this world, and she had no idea how he would take such news. She was naturally crushed when she found herself pregnant with me,” Victoria shrugged, but I could tell she was unsettled by the fact that her birth meant nothing but misery. She was so hard and tough I could barely feel sorry for her, but somehow, her demeanour made much more sense now.

“And because she wouldn’t come forward to her beloved Draco with the truth, he broke off the engagement, thinking she had cheated on him. He married the Greengrass woman mere months after that – and everyone seemed to think he’d dodged a bullet by breaking up with my mother. My mother, age twenty, was renounced by her pure-blood family, and kicked off the family estate almost immediately, with nowhere to go. It would have been her ruin, but then – surprise, surprise! – someone interfered. She was contacted by Lady Narcissa Malfoy herself. Apparently, my mother had not been her husband’s only victim, and Lady Malfoy seemed to think that a desperate, bitter girl like my mother was a loose cannon of sorts, and it was only a matter of time before she started spewing those oh-so-nasty rumours. And like my mother, Narcissa loves her Malfoy too much for her own good. She promised to arrange some sort of living for my mother in exchange for her silence. And my mother was out of options, so she agreed. Which is what landed her here, doing a job she hates and was never meant to do, watching her life pass her by.”

She went quiet for a moment, and I could tell by her bewildered, frantic expression that she was thinking: _ ‘But not me… this is not going to be my lot in life.’  _

“And all because of love,” she added quietly. “She loved Malfoy too much to break him, too much to make him pick sides, too much to stick him with a child he would no doubt take good care of, but could never look at without bitter taste in his mouth. She found out he was going to be here tonight – and she just wanted me to shine, she wanted to show me off, tell everyone – and him in particular – that she had something to be proud of in her wretched life. That’s why she so desperately wanted a Potter for me… and I suppose given the circumstances you did well enough,” she mumbled, and once again surprised me.

“But not only you’re not your dashing brother – you’re also blatantly  _ not  _ straight and awfully obsessed with your drop-dead-gorgeous cousin, dear,” she smirked, and I swear her words sent shivers down my spine. No one’s ever called me that to my face… not straight… in love with my cousin… bonkers about my Hugh… and the strangest realisation washed over me: those words, those simple truths, once so terrifying, no longer held an edge. There was a void inside of me upon losing my Hugo, a whole frightening Universe of black that seemed to swallow all happiness Iike a hungry, bottomless hole, and by comparison, those silly words seemed small and insignificant. How could I ever let them scare me so? 

“I told you… goddamn love ruins everything,” Victoria said thickly, still staring at some point behind my back stubbornly. “And yet no one wants to give up it up. Just look at my mother, trying to impress the man she fell in love with some twenty odd years ago. And look at you, miserable, jealous, and half-crazed as you are – would you ever give it up not to feel what you’re feeling?”

And I only shook my head. Never. I’d never give up what I felt for my Hugh, even if it meant crumbling under weight of wretchedness and loss, as I had when I’d lost it. But it was the essence of my life, and without it, I had nothing, no centre, no goal, no purpose.

“Never,” I whispered firmly, wanting her to hear my answer so she would know the true value of love should she ever be lucky enough to come upon it. 

“Then what are you waiting for, you fool?!” she suddenly snapped at me with so much genuine hurt in her voice that it made my heart squeeze in compassion, just the way it did upon seeing all those hurt animals James used to bring home.

“Run… you’re making my make-up melt… run, you idiot, before you have nothing left to lose. He’s been straining his neck trying to find you ever since I dragged you away. He’s just as bonkers about you as you are about him, and you’re just being a pair of idiots. I refuse to be responsible for your misery – and don’t you dare come back until you’re hanging around that long, gorgeous neck, you hear me?! God, I shouldn’t have had that last punch… I’m bloody melting… And if you tell anyone you saw me cry, I’ll tell my mother you ruined my evening, and she’ll hex you blind!”

“Why?” I wanted to know in a shaky voice, because it simply didn’t feel right to just… abandon her like this, clearly not well and, possibly, drunk. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because… because Slytherins are supposed to look after each other,” she said, still refusing to look at me. “And weird as you are, you’re still a Slytherin. And because… I suppose I need to believe there is hope,” she said quietly, and I understood the fatherless girl who watched her mother struggle through life all by herself. 

“Thank you,” I said quietly, and added just to make her feel better: “And if you threaten me again, I’m going to tell everyone you’re a good person.”

“Sod off,” she mumbled, yet somehow not sounding very intimidating. 

So, I turned around, and headed towards my Hugh. 

The second I spotted him, my heart went positively wild. He had his arms around Amelia, and her face, adoring and blissful, was tilted up towards him because he was so damn tall. A slow song had just begun to play, and I knew she was seconds from leaning her head onto his chest and closing her eyes, and I didn’t think I could take it. I stopped right next to them, with my heart drumming madly in my throat, and my head empty of any right words. I was driven here by my mad despair to do something, to turn things around and make this right, but I realised I had no idea how to go about that, and in the last moment, my feverish courage nearly abandoned me. So I did the one thing I could think of.

“Stop,” I blurted out. “Please, stop.”

And as if by miracle, they did. Amelia looked at me with her eyes wide and shocked, but Hugo… Hugo looked livid, focused, and only when his blue eyes burst to life and burnt with that fire I knew so well, I did I realise how much I’d missed seeing my passionate, beautiful, crazy Hugh. 

“What are you doing, Albus?” he hissed, but unless I was mistaken – unless I had completely lost my sense of being able to distinguish the most subtle variations in his tone of voice – there was also relief. As if he couldn’t quite believe I’d come and found him after all.

“I believe this song is mine,” I said the first thing that came to my mind. “It was the boys’ pick – and I came for you.” And just to eliminate all doubt I turned around to face Amelia, and I told her as firmly as I could: “I came for Hugo.”

“I…” She stared at me with her mouth open, clearly without any idea what to do, the old look of misery beginning to crawl into her eyes. And Hugo’s eyes… they were nothing but the bluest canopy of skies lit up with stars. He seemed to have stopped breathing.

“Al, you can’t joke like this…” he started in a low, warm, trembling voice, when he was suddenly interrupted.

“Oh, Merlin’s grace, finally! I’ve been  _ dying  _ to dance with this lovely young lady the whole evening, but I never seemed to be able to set my foot in… she always appeared terribly preoccupied. But now I’m not about to miss my chance. Would you do me the honour, Madam?” Draco Malfoy asked with a pleasant voice and irresistible smile on his face. 

Merlin, but the man was posh! Impeccably dressed and poised, he could have easily been mistaken for a man half his age, and his arm, imperiously stretched towards Amelia, clearly suggested he would not take no for an answer. Honestly, I would have thrown Amelia to the lions just to get rid of her… but Draco Malfoy would do. And she seemed to think so as well as she took his hand boldly, and positively glided towards him. I saw Scorpius standing at the side of the podium, smiling goofily at me and flashing me the thumbs up, while Rose pointedly admired her new ring without really looking at me, and I immediately knew who’d come to my rescue. Even though I was terrified, I couldn’t lose my nerve and let them down. I couldn’t let myself down. 

I’d found myself alone with Hugo at long last.

~

_ I could have murdered you, Al Potter. Murdered you, and kissed you stupid... and beat the crap out of you, and held you so tightly you’d have no breath left. I resented you, and goddammit, I worried about you, seeing you so obviously miserable. And god, how I missed you…I hated you, and I loved you, and I missed you like crazy. Until you said the words… words I’ve been dying to hear.  _

_ “I came for Hugo.”  _

_ It took me zero seconds to forgive you, Al Potter. Just like that, I trampled on my pride, and there was nothing left but love. _

_ ~ _


	13. Chapter 13

This was my one and only chance – hell, for all I knew it could have been my last chance! So I just stood there, and I allowed myself a moment to soak the magic of my Hugo in: his stunning beauty, his warmth, the heartbreaking way he was looking at me. I knew him so well, I could almost say it for him: _we’ve arrived at this point at last, and it’s your call… Allie._

And I just… I didn’t want to lose any more time. We’d been forced apart for too long by my cowardice, and I knew that the one way to heal us, to give us a chance, was to kill my weakness once and for all. I didn’t want to be a coward anymore; I chose my Hugh wholeheartedly. I reckoned if I allowed awkwardness to settle in, we were finished, and I’d realised in the wretched day behind me that I was willing to go a long way… _all_ the way, not to let that happen.

So I just gulped down my insecurities, and I launched myself at him. No questions, no doubts, no second thoughts or shame – I’d humiliated him long enough with those. This, here, was my Hugh, and my whole being just breathed his name, yearning for the feeling of bone-deep connection only he could give me. And for that, I was willing to risk being rejected, being pushed away, and taking a hard lesson on how badly I’d hurt him – but I just wanted to let him know where I stood. I needed him to know how much I’d missed him, appreciated him... loved him. As Scorpius, my super-wise dorm mate put it: ‘ _Sometimes a man has to put everything on the line for the one he loves.'_

But because this was my Hugh, there was no putting up appearances, no beating around the bush, no false pretence he didn’t want what I had to give. His arms closed around me almost instantly, and I might have moaned a little in pure delight. Merlin, I’d missed him so... It never failed to amaze me how we were instantly magic together, and in a fresh bout of determination I decided that I was willing to do any damn thing not to lose that.

So I tilted my head up to look into those heavenly eyes I saw myself in since I was two years old, and I spoke in a voice that barely had any strength left:

“Hugh… please forgive me. I’m…”

But he put his finger on my mouth and shook his head.

“No apologies,” he said quietly. “We both hurt one another tonight… and I’m willing to chalk it up to the old Weasley-Potter tradition of having a terrible Yule ball,” he smiled in that gentle, sexy way of his, and I must have forgotten how his eyes glittered when he did that, because the sight instantly left my throat dry and my cock swelling.

“I will have no excuses, no explanations, no regrets. I don’t need that from you, Al. You already gave me what I wanted. You came for me,” he said simply, and my heart melted and began to pound wildly in my chest because I realised I did have this one last thing to give him… the one thing that I never gave him before because I was too damn scared... and because I thought he already knew.

“I love you, Hugo Weasley. I mean… I’m _in love_ with you. Like, for real, Hugh.”

It wasn’t the smoothest confession, but it needed to be said... and then I got a rare opportunity to see Hugo Weasley, always cool and composed, utterly and completely stunned and lost for words.

His pretty lips parted in shock, and his eyes got so big and brilliant, I could have lost myself in them like a Universe of blue. He looked every bit like a child who’d just opened up the best, most sincerely wanted Christmas present, a present so big he was even afraid to put it on the wish list. I swear, my Hugo looked just like the first time I saw him, so open and vulnerable, as if a lost angel had landed in my life by some wonderful mistake – and I felt the very same thing I felt back then: pure, simmering love.

He had tears in his eyes when he looked at me, unmistakably so, and he didn’t even try to hide them.

“Are you for real, Al? You can’t say stuff you don’t mean… not this kind of stuff, Allie… Do you really mean it?”

And I can’t believe it was so simple. I smiled a happy, free smile when I spoke the words:

“Of course I mean it, Hugh. I should have said it sooner. I’ve never loved anyone but you. I don’t want to.”

And then he slowly touched my cheek with those long, warm fingers, as if he wanted to check whether I was real, and perhaps it was our longing or just the magic of that very moment when we knew we were right for each other – but something instantly passed between us that made me feel as if his touch had charged me, and I whimpered helplessly into the simple gesture. A second later his mouth was on mine, and Hugo Weasley was kissing me in front of everyone, hungrily, unstoppably, as savagely as only he knew how, and just the way I needed it. I reckon we must have been quite the spectacle, as I heard a few loud squeals, cheers, and _“aaaawww”_ s at the back, as well as Victoria’s grumpy: _“How does my damn phone not work in this hole?! I need a picture of this, this is too good.”_

“Need you,” Hugo mumbled into my mouth, clearly oblivious to the rest of the world. “It’s nearly been a week… and a week is too long to be without you, Al Potter.” And then he added in that sexy, casual manner of his that never failed to send shivers down my spine: “I want to suck you off. I fucking _need_ a taste of you, Al. Any damn place will do.”

 _JesusMerlin_ , he would always do this to me. Confess something that had me all melted on the inside, and then murmur some utterly depraved, dirty thing in my ear, and have me desperately hard in seconds. And just like that, I knew what I was going to give him as my apology. I know Scorpius had suggested giving him my heart… but I reckoned since I was already done with that part, I had something better in mind. The only problem was, I had no idea how to make it happen…

“Mr. _Weasley_! Mr. _Potter!_ Well, I never…!”

It says a lot about how very immersed in each other we’d become that we didn’t even jump apart at the sound of the Headmistress McGonagall’s voice. Instead, Hugo just murmured “ _Fuck… talk about rotten timing,”_ before we parted slowly with one last kiss and looked at her – me sheepishly and Hugo entirely unapologetically – awaiting our punishment.

She, however, looked equal parts shocked and exasperated.

“For Merlin’s sake! You hopeless sacks of hormones… Oh, how dare you… and in a place as public as this?! We’re not in a brothel, I’ll have you know! Follow me, the pair of you!”

So we tagged behind her, and when Hugo casually slipped his fingers around my hand, I didn’t want to let go of them. I saw him glance at me sideways, undoubtedly checking if he had made me uncomfortable, but I simply squeezed his fingers, letting him know it was all right, and it brought a radiant smile onto his face. A few random people high-fived us on our way out, and Hugo was smiling so proudly, as if he had just won a Quidditch cup. But all I could think of was that I could’ve given him this years ago if I wasn’t such a darned fool, and I felt like kicking myself.

As soon as we’d made it out of the Great Hall, McGonagall stopped so abruptly that we knocked into her from behind, but she looked entirely unperturbed. She casually put her gloved hand on our intertwined hands and we… _Disapparated?!_

“One of the Headmistress’s privileges,” she said smugly, when we reappeared, staring at her as if she had grown another head. “I’m too old to run up those stairs, and some fool put this wonder you’re about to discover on the seventh floor – I simply couldn’t be bothered. Now – you two are going to walk past this exceptionally ludicrous picture of Barnabas the Barmy three times, thinking of the thing you need the most, and you will not breathe a word about what you find to another living soul; do we have an understanding?”

Our Headmistress is… kind of magical, if you don’t mind me saying so – and exceptionally cool when one least expects it.

“I know what this is,” Hugo said unexpectedly – while I just stared with my mind shamefully blank. “I heard my parents speak of it – I just don’t understand… why?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall sighed. “I’m nearing my 90th birthday – how many people do you think I’ve seen over the years looking at each other the foolish, smitten way you and Mr. Potter here do? _Too many,_ is the right answer! I dare say if your eyes held the function of your mouth, there would be a considerable part of Mr. Potter already missing – you’re practically devouring him! Nothing good ever comes of having a bunch of hormone-fuelled, miserable teenagers running up and down the halls of this noble institution… especially when they come with love like yours,” she said in a slightly more subdued tone, and I think it’s safe to say that she surprised us both.

“So, you see, it is in our common interest to get you – and your less-than-decent urges – out of the public eye before you corrupt my entire school with your teenage antics! Besides,” she shrugged unexpectedly, looking sort of smug, “Mr. Potter might have won me a galleon or two tonight with his courtesy towards you – so you may consider it a token of my gratitude.”

It was Hugo’s turn to look confused – but I knew exactly what she was on about.

“You haven’t been betting on me, have you?!” I blurted out in shock, not knowing whether I was more flabbergasted by the fact that she took part in those silly bets... or that she apparently had enough faith to bet her galleons on me.

“Since the very first year the betting started, and every year after that, Mr. Potter,” she said without batting an eye, but a small smile in the corner of her mouth was just on the right side of mischievous. “Trust it to a Scottish witch to know which dragon to put her money on. I wish you a good evening, gentlemen, and remember – not a word to anyone about your… experience.”

And just like that, she was gone.

“Bloody hell,” Hugo whispered, still looking kind of stunned. “Fuck me if she isn’t the most wicked old hag alive. I love that woman!”

“You’re absolutely _not_ allowed…” I wrapped my arms around his neck and eagerly pulled him down onto my mouth, “...to love anyone but me.”

As soon as our mouths met, I closed my eyes, and whimpered quietly, falling head first into the experience. God, I missed this… the warm, probing, sweet kisses gradually permeated by our urgency and transforming into a delectable, desperate dance of greedy tongues seeking each other... that fucking toe-curling teasing, half-playful inviting and shameless seducing followed by merciless, needy delving in, sinking deeply into that hot, wet cavity of the other boy’s needy mouth, not caring about the clashing teeth and injured lips, but getting high and beyond turned on by a deep, urgent need for each other. One couldn’t give me a more delicious aphrodisiac than hearing my Hugo breathe my name with blinding urgency that perfectly reflected my own.

He pushed me against a stone pillar only to kiss me more thoroughly, and after an assault of kisses as deep and irresistible as that one, I was seeing the stars behind my eyelids already.

“Oh, the disgrace! Oh, you filthy, indecent boys! Shame on you…”

I confess, I jumped a little, but Hugo only chuckled.

“Sir Barnaby,” he explained. “I reckon he hasn’t got any in centuries and he might be a bit jealous. Trolls don’t seem all that interested in the old pervert.”

“Hugo!” I tried to scold him, but failed, because it was just too funny and I had to laugh… and here I was, in an abandoned, chilly Hogwarts corridor with a nutty old knight throwing insults at us, and my Hugh holding me in his arms, and the world had never looked like a more blissful place. I looked at Hugo, a bit breathless, with glossy lips from our kissing and fire in those blue eyes – and I swear, he was the most fucking beautiful thing I ever saw. He took my breath away.

“Shall we?” he said, suddenly picking me up like a bride, making me yelp in surprise. “I’ve had quite enough of the barmy old fool. I hope we can think of better things to do.”

“Oh, _godpleaseyes_... “ I murmured, because I was cradled up to his body, and there was no place I’d rather be. I’m sure I’d have been in awe at the room opening in front of us all of a sudden if I had any presence of mind left – and I was, quite some time later – but at that moment, I didn’t care about any damn thing but being with my Hugh. He might as well have taken me to the troll’s cave; if it had any kind of bed or surface we could do it on, it would serve just fine. I was desperate for him, desperate to see, feel and taste that amazing body that never failed to wake up the devil in me; I was on fire with the urgency to feel my skin coming to life under his skilled hands and that sinful, luscious mouth discovering all those hidden, sensitive spots on my body that made me fall apart. But mostly I just wanted to breathe him in, bathe in the awareness that I somehow miraculously managed to win him back, that the night in front of us wasn’t going to be the disaster I expected it to be, but special… special in a way that even he wasn’t aware of. I could barely hold myself back any longer.

I wanted my Hugh so close to me, as I’d never had him before. I wanted us to become one… I wanted him inside me. I needed him. I was finally ready. I just had to find a way to let him know.

He carried me into the room, kicking the door closed, and laid me down on a wonderfully soft bed. I never let go of him. I pulled him down with me, on top of me, all but glued onto his mouth until our frantic, deep kisses left us both panting, breathless and that special kind of desperate that leads to clothes being torn off and to that wonderful, arousing roughness leaving the mark of your man on your body. So when his delicious mouth sought out that sensitive spot on my neck that made my toes curl and yelp his name in reverence, I sank my fingers into the the silken, fiery hair I was a little bit obsessed with, and whispered my secret into his ear:

“I want you to own me tonight, Hugh. I want to _feel_ you owning me. I want to go all the way with you… I’m ready.”

His head shot up, and those brilliant blue eyes were full of awe, as if I’d caught him completely by surprise, and my heart squeezed in my chest at the sight. He was looking at me exactly as one would want to be looked at in such a tender moment – as if I was worth a million galleons, and suddenly I was ashamed of ever holding back. What the hell was I afraid of anyway? My Hugh would never hurt me, and I should have had more trust in him.

“Are you…” he started, but I wouldn’t let him finish.

“I’m ready,” I repeated more softly, and for some reason I felt like crying. I _so_ needed him to know how much tonight meant to me, how insanely happy I was to be given a second chance. But the kiss he gave me removed all doubt that perhaps he didn’t understand.

“God, Al,” he whispered into my mouth, and I just moaned in delight, because now that I’d reached my decision, I wanted it to be _right.fucking.now_ and my whole body seemed to be on fire with it. I knew there would be time for niceties and long, slow fucking that made me beg later, perhaps mere hours from now, but in that moment I needed my Hugh too much to care for careful and tender. I tore that gorgeous, sexy jacket from him eagerly, making the silver clasps fly apart under my rushing hands, making him chuckle and moan at my need. I cared nothing for the silken white shirt, clearly tailor-made and expensive, but very much in the way of the thing I needed so badly it was making my head spin: the feeling of warm, flushed skin under my fingers, the powerful muscles moving under my hands, the hardening nubs, the way he gasped when I ran fingers up and down the rock-hard bulge straining his trousers.

“Fuck, Al… we can’t hurry like this…” he whispered, but all I could hear was the despair in his voice, telling me he didn’t really mean it, he needed it as badly as I did, and he was just being careful for my sake.

“The fuck we can’t, Weasley,” I mumbled into his mouth, and bit into his lip gently for a good measure. “Do your magic. You know how. Even  _I_ know how, we’ve seen all those things on that phone of yours… I just want to feel you from the inside, Hugh... fucking me,” I whispered, and it lit up his eyes like the starlight. In the next moment, he started removing my clothes with such speed as if they were a personal offence to him. I knew he could have used magic and stripped me naked with a flick of his wand, but I knew he was doing it for me, putting that raw power on display because it melted every bone in my body, and made me want to yield.

I whimpered helplessly when his wonderful mouth wrapped around the tip of my swollen cock probingly, as if he wanted to remember how I tasted. I almost had a change of heart right there and then because it felt so bloody good, because it would be so damn easy to just let that wet softness envelop me, and make all my tension explode deep in his mouth. But he’d have none of that. He flipped me on my stomach, quickly and forcefully, just the way I liked it, and in the next moment, I heard the whispered cleaning charm we knew so well, we could both perform it wandlessly. Just hearing the words sent shivers down my spine, as if my body became aware of what was coming. Those warm hands cradled my buttocks for a moment, as if they were getting used to the shape of me, and sure enough he murmured:

“God, the shape of this fucking delicious arse of yours, Al… These fucking round globes… have you got any idea how many times I wanked myself raw thinking of them… of this moment? I want to taste you so bad, precious, it’s hard not to blow my load just thinking of it. Do you want it, Al? Do you want my tongue in that tight hole of yours, baby? I’ll make it really good for you, you know I can.”

“ _Yesohgodyes_!!” I babbled because this fucking dirty talk of his just turned me on so badly I could barely hold back.

“Yes… oh, god, Hugo… yes…” I blurted out in the next moment when those strong fingers pulled apart my arsecheeks, and that slick wetness sent a sparkling charge all over my body. “Merlin, yes, there… _ohbloodyhell… godyes…_ there… oh, Christ, I bloody love that…”

I fucking dissolved when he did that. That delicious tongue delving into my hole could reduce me to a whimpering mess every bloody time, but by then it had been months since we’d done anything unhurried in that bloody inconvenient school, and I couldn’t recall ever being so needy. And feeling such a rush of pleasure flood me, when I knew there would be more… much more than ever before... it was just fucking mind-blowing. I’m sure I babbled all kinds of incoherent rubbish, but I was beyond pretty words and any kind of decency: he just knew how to drive me wild and turn me into a hopeless, shameless slut for his tongue.

I’d let his fingers play with my wet hole before, and it always thrilled me and made me yearn for more, but up until that moment, I always stopped myself from actually asking him to go on because… oh, damn, because I didn’t know if I could handle it. You see, there was this sweet little spot inside of me that just called his name. Those long, skilled fingers would find it every time, and it would make me gasp and yelp, and push my body onto his fingers with an urgency I could not control… And though I anticipated the feeling with blinding need, I also feared it, as I always feared losing control. But to think about allowing his cock in, so much bigger, the experience so much more intense... I… Merlin, it always made my brain freeze and sent my heartbeat into overdrive. I didn’t dare. Until that moment.

This time, his fingers were slick, and the feeling of coolness at my entrance alone made my nipples hard as pebbles. God, he just couldn’t do anything wrong to me… he couldn’t. As soon as his fingers breached me, first one, and then another, twisting, seeking, massaging, and finally hitting that piece of heaven inside me, I whimpered and closed my eyes, and then blurted it out quickly, before I lost my nerve:

“Please… get me ready, Hugh. I need it… I need you.”

“ _JesusMerlin_ , Al… you need to fucking stop begging, or I’ll spill all over you before I come anywhere near that decadent arse of yours,” he hissed into my ear, but it was hard… fuck, it was bloody _impossible_ with his fingers driving me spare and making me fall apart faster than I could help it. But then he added another finger, and that… that was a whole new level. I never felt that much invasion, we’d never gone that far, and it sort of took my breath away.

“All right, precious?” he whispered in my ear, his warm breath sending shiver after shiver down my spine, and I simply nodded, unable to form words.

“If you want to…”

“No! Please, don’t… no… I want to. I really, really want to, Hugh… Just go on with it. I won’t break. I can deal with a bit of discomfort… but I can’t deal with being without you.”

“Allie…” I could hear it in his voice how moved he was, because he had used my name, that sweet, secret childhood name he had for me that spoke of love as old as we were, and I simply wanted the time to be _now_. I wouldn’t get better than that.

“Hugo… I… I need… now,” I tried to tell him, but he was already there, reading my mind as he sometimes would, that massive gorgeous cock was at my entrance, pushing in… and I kind of lost my ability to breathe, speak, or think for a while. Merlin, it was big. Big, and powerful, and unrelenting, it invaded every inch of emptiness inside of me, slowly, yet unyielding, not backing off, but pushing further in until it was all I could feel, all I could think about. I had tears in my eyes from the intensity of the moment. Everything felt tense, on the edge, and it hurt… but then it didn’t. It was all too right to be wrong. I had my Hugo in me, filling me up to the brim, making me feel complete, finally a part of me as I always wanted him to be, and when he kissed my neck gently, as if silently pleading, I felt sparks of fire travelling down my spine.

“Mo-ve…” I stuttered, still too overwhelmed for proper words. “Please, Hugo… move… need you to fuck me… yessss… ohhhh… _godbabeyes…_ ”

He moved, shallowly at first, but my whole reality cracked and shattered at that goddamn fulfilling experience, as if my very core moved with him and sucked him in, to be as close as we would ever get. I heard him moan behind me, “Al… oh, goddammit, Al...” and all I could squeeze between my clenched teeth was: “I won’t break, Hugo. Give it to me now… I want everything you’ve got, love…”

And then he pushed into me, like, shoved properly and forcefully, and I yelped in the glorious feeling of getting closer towards ecstasy, and when he did it again, he hit that spot… and everything was just a blur after that. I vaguely remember grabbing the rail at the head of the bed for some leverage to have myself fucked thoroughly and into the fucking wall, and the room echoed with my broken, needy moans for his vicious, heavenly cock to fuck me faster, deeper, harder, “... there, oh, right there, fuck me harder, Hugh, harder, gods…”

His hands covered mine on the railing and our fingers intertwined as he drilled into me as if our lives depended on it, and I could tell he was close, when I was so full of him I was about to burst, but then he moaned quietly into my ear: “Please, Al… I want to see your face.”

So I let him. I couldn’t stop a petty, resentful wail when he slipped out of me because I needed him to fill me up, I needed to feel that wonderful heavy cock invading me from inside, I needed to feel him fit with me, and even a moment of emptiness felt wrong. But when he flipped me onto my back, and it was all worth it. Nothing could compare to the sight of Hugo rise above me, gorgeous like an ancient god, that divine body covered in a thin layer of perspiration, and the marble skin glimmering in the candlelight as if he was a beautiful otherworldly creature sent to seduce me. The strands of long red hair had escaped from his ornate plait, making him look primal and savage, and those magical eyes, full of starlight were… just… words always fail me. I can’t put how he made me feel into any proper form, it never feels quite right… or enough. I could scarcely believe this stunning man was here for me, made for me.

I didn’t have to tell him I was ready, he knew. His hands joined mine on the railing when he filled me up again, lying on top of me, his pretty, beloved face an inch from mine as he whispered simply:

“I love you, Al Potter. There’s no one for me but you, Allie.”

“Hugo…!” I yelped as he moved again, and I didn’t want to close my eyes from some deeply-rooted, irrational fear that I was going to lose him if I did. He fucked me hard, just as hard as I begged him to, but it was completely different experience; it was so much more. The very sight of him made me feel giddy, as if I was high.

“So close…” I whimpered when those narrow hips delivered a particularly vicious shove that made my eyes roll to the back of my head. My cock lay stiff against my stomach, solid, swollen and leaking, and simply craving a touch, any attention, like never before. “Please, Hugo… I need…”

“God, Al…” he yelped, sounding just as desperate and near the edge as I was. “Put your hand on that needy cock of yours, Potter… and let me see you work it… fuck, Al, you slut… Merlin, you’re gorgeous like this… don’t stop… god, baby, don’t stop… I need to remember this… one day, I’m going to watch you do this every day… for me… with me… because I can’t get enough of you, gorgeous… I can’t get enough of you, Allie, my love…”

I managed to pull him down on my lips, and I ate that last desperate “Allie!!!” straight off of them before my body arched impossibly and it all went white-hot and then dark. I came so hard I just… don’t have the next few moments. I was lost somewhere in the darkness of my bliss, and I can’t remember a damn thing, just this incredible, overpowering feeling of ecstasy, of being in love, and being loved.

I came to my senses with the full weight of his body on me, and though I could barely breathe, it felt strangely right this way. I was never happier in my life than in those few moment of being buried under the hot body of Hugo Weasley, breathing in his incredible manly scent, and feeling simply invincible. My Hugh loved me, he’d said so, and in those intimate, blissful moments, I didn’t need much more from life than that.

He finally moved and immediately shifted his weight off me, always so caring and concerned about me, but I smiled and I pulled him right back on top.

“Need you there,” I said simply, and to watch that pretty, freckled face stretch into a dreamy smile, and those breathtaking eyes glitter like priceless gems in pure joy – I simply didn’t need more art, poetry and beauty in my life. I found it all in my Hugo’s eyes.

“Love you,” he said quietly, and then: “Thank you.”

And that was it. He didn’t need to say more, his beautiful, happy smile covered for a thousand words.

It was not the only time we did it that night… er, no. We had no idea when we would get our chance again, and now that there was no more unspoken clutter between us, we were kind of desperate to _have our deeds do the talking_ , if you like. We fucked, to put it simply. We fucked and we made love, and we did it again… and again before the morning came. I discovered I _loved_ bottoming that night, and I was willing to be quite, uhm, experimental about it. And Hugo… well, Hugo was just an animal in bed that I always knew he would be. I swear, I was so spent by morning, I could barely move a muscle, but he still looked as if he could go another round, and possibly, a few more after that.

Getting up from that bed was probably one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Not only was I physically destroyed, and simply _longing_ for a hot shower and a long, undisturbed kip in my bed, but it also meant I had to say goodbye to the wonderful little piece of heaven in a hidden magical room where no one could find us, and to that priceless, precious closeness we were able to enjoy that one magical night. If I could’ve had it my way, I would have stayed there for the rest of the year and never left. But there was no escaping McGonagall and the harsh reality waiting for us out there. There was still half a school year in front of us when we could only enjoy each other’s company and those sorely-missed moments of intimacy in a very limited manner, and then I would have to do a whole year without him… and I had no strength to think about that. So I stubbornly focused on _the here and the now_ and allowed that incredible feeling of happiness I carried inside stretch into the morning.

I kissed Hugo goodbye in the empty Slytherin common room, and it turned out to be, uhm, a lengthy affair as we had a hard time letting go of each other. But eventually I tiptoed into my dorm, only to find the other two guys snoring and Scorpius Malfoy still awake, with the same goofy, utterly happy expression plastered to his face I suspect I was wearing myself.

“She said yes!” he told me in place of a hello, and when he smiled like smitten idiot, I smiled back, because I was happy for him and because it gave me hope that somehow my own love story would end up on such a happy note as well.

“How was…” he started, but I wouldn’t even let him finish.

“Brilliant! I mean… great. Oh, god... unforgettable. Everything I ever wanted,” it poured out of me before I cut myself short, and I smiled sheepishly into his flabbergasted face.

“All right… uhm… great… I mean – I’m happy for you,” he said sincerely, and I just loved him for his kindness, his honesty and generosity, and for his wonderful tactfulness.

But right after I climbed into my bed, and read Hugo’s one last entry in our diary – “Sleep tight, Allie, my love” – I just… couldn’t sleep. As wrecked as I was, something kept nudging at the edge of my brain, as if balance for this perfect night wasn’t quite there yet, and there was something… and then I remembered.

“Scorpius?”

“Hm?” came from the bed next to my own, indicating that the blond boy was still awake.

“I found out something last night… but… boy, this is awkward, but… how do you feel about your grandfather? You know, Lucius… Do you…?”

“Vile old man,” Scorpius shot without any hesitation whatsoever, and the harsh tone of his voice, usually so calm and composed, came as a surprise. “Vicious drunk. Father would never let me go near him much. Grandmother Cissy is great, and I care very much for her, but Grandfather… He’s turned too violent to handle lately, and Grandmother had to put him away to an institution – where he gets the best of care, of course – but barely anyone bothers to see him anymore save for her and Father. Father said that his bitterness over the loss of family status drove him quite mad after the war.”

“That’s… interesting,” I said carefully. “Because I heard a story last night.”

“Oh _God!_ Oh dear god,” he uttered sheet-white a few minutes later when I repeated Victoria’s words to him as best as I could recall. “I think I’m going to be sick. That old bastard! You don’t even have to ask me if I believe you – I believe every word; it just screams his name! And Father… Father will believe it as well. I must let him know… I shall write to him immediately. Thank goodness for this wonderful diary your father invented! Poor Ms. Parkinson. I mean… I know she can be a bit of a… she can be cold and unkind, sometimes even a tad unfair – and I’m _very_ glad she isn’t my mother! – but this wrong has to be righted somehow… and now that Rose and I will move to a place of our own, I reckon… perhaps Father could use a bit of company, he’s been dreadfully lonely after my mother’s passing…”

I fell asleep with a smile on my face that day, and somehow I managed to keep the happiness and hope intact for the entire year. McGonagall requested we didn’t extensively parade our relationship – but she asked the same of Rose and Scorpius, saying it would set the wrong kind of example in a school filled with hormone-fuelled teenagers, but if Hugo took my hand casually, or I combed his silken hair with my fingers, she tended to look away and ignore us, rather than scold us. Between this quiet sort of tolerance and many trips to the lake and other secluded places where we could give in to our urges for a few hours to at least take the worst of the edge off the desperate sexual tension between us – we survived my last year somehow. With the help of Hugo’s brilliance and Rose-the-slave-driver’s study plans, I actually managed to do surprisingly well on my N.E.W.T.s, and the summer was just… unforgettable.

I don’t think we’d ever had such freedom. Rose was already gone with Scorpius to tour Asia, James had plunged head-first into an opportunity for an exciting and mysterious expedition into the Amazonian forests with the Scamander twins, and Lily was mostly stuck with her boyfriend, a skinny, pale, emo-looking Muggle boy she’d picked up at one of the concerts with depressing music and heavy make up, and who seemed to be just as excited at the world of magic as Grandpa Arthur was at the world of Muggles. Dad joked that Lily had finally found her Snape, but the fact was, he was thoughtful, clever, and philosophical, just the way she liked them, and they got on along splendidly.

So it was just Hugo and I, and we were in Heaven. We swam in the pond during the day, and Hugo was showing me around all the Muggle places he got to see while spending time with his Muggle grandparents. We helped Uncle Ron around his shop – Hugo was a bit of genius in inventing new toys and gadgets, while my Potions skills came handy with the new assortments of sweets – but mostly, we were just happy to be able to spend time together any way we saw fit. But I loved our nights best. Sometimes they were filled with experimental, uncompromising fucking that left us both panting and exhausted, but we usually ended the night with cuddling and gentle love-making that always put me on top of the world and made me fall asleep with a smile on my face. I just… I lost myself in that summer. I refused to think about the bleak future of the year ahead, desperately set on creating as many sweet memories as I could have, and if I could’ve stretched that summer to go on forever, I would never be miserable again. But then it was suddenly all over.

On September 1, when I said my goodbyes to Hugh, holding on to him to the very last moment, my life suddenly turned to shit. I plunged into a deep pit of depression, and I was forced to brutally wake up to realisation that I had no idea what to do with my life. I know my family loves me – I _know_ they do – it’s just… they’re all so focused, so determined; they all know where they’re going. Dad always wanted to be part of the Auror corps, as if after all these years he still felt the need to pay back a debt to the wizarding society that took his side in his fight with Voldemort. Mum is in love with sports, and that’s her calling in life. Aunt Hermione – well, she’s just a machine, isn’t she? She’s tearing through all the prejudice and centuries-long traditions like a freight-train – one of the youngest Ministers ever, and a Muggle-born at that, smart and ambitious, and later – divorced, and still standing strong. And Uncle Ron… I suppose he’s the most like me, but he too had found his calling in being the best dad ever… and quietly living in my father’s shadow. But I… I didn’t know where I was going.

And it wasn’t just my professional career – or lack thereof – that everyone seemed to be concerned about. I had to endure round after round of questions, more or less subtle, about my personal life: when did I plan to move out, was there a girl, and why, oh, why was I so… aimless? But I couldn’t tell anyone that I was completely lost without my Hugh. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Being all alone, and faced with all the real-life norms outside of school and the harsh reality of everyone’s prejudice and ideas about _my_ life – I was slowly beginning to lose hope Hugo and I would ever be together. Days seemed to drag endlessly, and I mostly spent them trying to avoid my family and the endless string of questions and suggestions. With every day, I seemed to lose some of my spirit, and a little worm of doubt sank its teeth into the notion that our future together was possible – or even a good idea.

It wasn’t _normal_ to be in love with your cousin, there was no doubt about that. I knew of no such couple, and even if I had, I was beginning to have doubts it would ever be accepted. Was I going to ruin his life as well as my own if I clung onto him too tightly?

But I needed him! I felt helpless, weak and only half a person without my Hugh. I didn’t even want to _think_ about dating anyone else! As much as my reserves of sexual appetite seemed bottomless when it came to Hugo, I had absolutely no desire to mate with anyone else. I _wasn’t_ interested. I was so very _uninterested_ that at a certain point Grandmother Molly suggested good-naturedly that I see a healer. But I’d honestly rather spend my evening writing page after page into our diary than having a drink with a nice girl that one of my many well-meaning relatives managed to drag into the picture in hopes she would be the one.

But the worst part of it was – I didn’t have the guts to tell Hugo about it. I did the same idiot thing that I did with the Yule ball, and I kept it from him, but at least this time my motivation had been more noble. I knew he had it hard enough without me, and he had his N.E.W.T.s to worry about, so I didn’t put any of that into our diary. The things I put in were all my hopes and dreams, those I clung to most desperately just to survive, and I didn’t mention with a single word how bad I had it. I would have honestly gone barmy if it wasn’t for the diary that kept me from falling apart completely. I kept dreaming of a better future through it just to keep myself afloat, but by after three months, I was exhausted, fading away in front of everyone’s eyes, and I still had nearly a full month to go before I could see Hugo during his holidays.

That year could have been the ruin of me, of us… but I seem to have a guardian angel of sorts. Rose came back sooner than expected… and now that I think of it, I think Uncle Ron might have summoned her back. He was the person who saw me most with everyone being busy, and he seemed to be worried more every time he saw me. He tried talking to me, he’d ask if I ate enough – which I didn’t – and if I perhaps wanted to come and work for him – which I would have jumped at if Hugo was still around... but this was a damn joke shop, and I wasn’t sure if I could do with so much fuss and social interaction. He didn’t give up on me, but he, of all people, probably understood I was heartbroken and lonely, and he couldn’t do anything on his own to fix that.

But the first time Rose lay eyes on me at the beginning of December when she returned, she didn’t hold back:

“Merlin’s hairy balls, what happened to you, Al?!” she barked, looking almost scared and definitely worried. “You must have lost a stone – and you didn’t have a stone to lose to begin with, Albus Potter! Whatever the hell is going on with you?!”

And I just… crashed. I had tears in my eyes before she even finished, and I barely managed to tell her the truth in a trembling voice:

“I miss him so, Rosie. I miss Hugo. I don’t know what to do with myself when he’s not around.”

“Al, you fool! Oh, come _the fuck_ on, Albus, you’re not going to cry, are you!? You’re not… Al, don’t cry, please, don’t cry. Jesus, does Hugo know about any of this? How bad it is? You didn’t tell him, did you? Of course not, or he’d be here on the bloody broom if he had to at the first tear you shed! Oh, Al, you… I don’t know what to do with you. Now, sit down, and have a look at this while I make you a cup of tea. Yes, it’s a present; of course I got you one, you dolt, you’re my favourite cousin! Book of potions indigenous to Asia. Now, that’s the first smile I saw you flash the whole day. Drink this, and for Merlin’s sake eat some of these ginger cookies while I have a talk with Scorpius. We barely have three weeks to make you put some weight on – or I can tell you right now Hugo will kick school to the curb and come back to take care of you. And we _don’t_ want that, do we, Al?!”

Merlin, she knew me so well. She knew I’d gladly give half of my left leg to be have Hugo care for me – but she also knew how to make me nod dutifully and deny it. No wonder her Quidditch team wins every game she plays – she probably bullies the Snitch into surrendering itself! But I confess, it felt good to have someone that had my true best interest at heart tell me what to do –  and know they wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I ate the cookies and sipped the tea until she returned and said curtly:

“To bed with you, Al Potter! It’s an early day for you tomorrow and you look like death warmed up! You’ll be meeting with Scorpius’s father tomorrow; he has a proposal for you.”

She knew me too well to let me ponder upon it. She pushed a glass with the sleeping potion into my hand, and watched me until my eyelids grew heavy. She knew I would have worried myself silly otherwise.

The proposal turned out to be rather... _magical_. Mr. Malfoy, who had recently proposed to a certain old flame of his who went by the name of Ms. Pansy Parkinson, apparently needed someone to take care of his exclusive potions shop while he was busy with marriage preparations, and later, his honeymoon. He needed someone available for at least half a year, if not longer. But the best part of his proposal was mentioned so matter-of-factly, I had to ask him in an uncertain voice to repeat it – and it turned out I had heard him just fine the first time: the potions shop was in Hogsmeade. I’d be near Hugo for half a year, if not longer. The world got kind of blurry after that.

“Mr. Potter… Albus? Would you care for a glass of water? You look dreadfully pale!” Mr. Malfoy had murmured, and I only blurted out: “Yes!!!”

And when I noticed that I had startled him, I quickly added, quite mortified: “I mean… _yes_ , to your generous proposal… and to a glass of water.”

“I see,” he said with a small smirk in the corner of his mouth, and though his grey eyes were serious, he didn’t look unkind.

“That’s settled, then,” he said calmly. “I would appreciate if you could begin first thing on Monday morning – therefore I would need you to settle in on Friday, so you can have the small flat above the shop arranged to your wishes. Spare no expenses, I insist. I will take care of your transportation to Hogsmeade, as the traffic isn’t very conveniently arranged. And if you like…” he paused a little, “I could talk to my fiancée about giving your boyfriend a free weekend pass and relieving him of his Prefect duties for the time being.”

I… was speechless. I was so moved and thankful I didn’t know what to say or how to act to show him how much appreciated his kindness. And he’d called Hugo my boyfriend, without ever implying there was ever any other relationship between us, and that alone instantly brought tears to my eyes. Dammit, why was I such an emotional wreck?!

“Thank you,” I finally managed the poorest expression of my gratitude in a shaky voice, but I think he could see the rest in my eyes.

“That’s perfectly all right,” he said casually. “My future wife and I never did thank you for… _intervening_ to help us clear years of misunderstanding between us. Consider this arrangement a token of our gratitude, if you like. As you kids say, we’re even.”

And when he left, the rest of my weekend was just a blur. In the space of hours I went from being a jobless loser, going mental in his boyfriend’s absence, to someone who’d been offered a rather prestigious position for a person with no experience, and – most importantly – got a chance to settle down so close to his boyfriend there was a much greater chance of seeing him more often. My brain sort of got fried under that realisation, and if it wasn’t for Rosie, I would’ve been nowhere near ready as I was the following Friday.

A Portkey had been arranged for me, and it landed me straight on the premises. I’d barely had a look around when I heard an incredulous: “Al? Oh, my god, Allie, is that you?! What are you doing here? I’m supposed to meet Mr. Malfoy’s new tenant and hand him the key, but… Merlin, Al, is there something wrong?!”

And there was my Hugo. I turned around so fast at the sound of his voice that I could still spot him sitting on the counter, but in the next minute, he launched off it and rushed towards me, pulling me into his arms without any reservations. And I just kind of fell apart. I cried, and I hiccupped the words, and I hid my wet face into his shirt and tried to kiss him frantically a second later – in short, I was a mess. But he cradled me in his arms, never letting go, kissing me softly until my sobbing subsided and I relaxed.

Then he pulled me away an inch, just enough to look into my eyes, and asked the question:

“Al… what happened?” I could see the worry in his eyes. I knew what a ghost of myself I had become in the months we were apart, and I knew that I’d given him no warning whatsoever with the hopes and dreams I had put into our diary. That wasn’t the real me. That was Albus I wanted to be for him, but now the real man was in front of him, and I knew it was a shock. I was ghastly.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’ve been having a really hard time without you, and I didn’t want you to know… I guess I didn’t want to bother you, so… I didn’t tell you. But…”

“Never mind,” he said quickly. “Never mind that, Allie. I’ll have a talk with McGonagall and Parkinson. They won’t break us apart again… or I’ll leave.”

“No!” I was devastated. “No, please don’t! I’ve done… all this, and I would have done more so you could do your part here, properly, and we could be together. I don’t want it to be in vain. I got a job here now… Mr. Malfoy offered, and I... we could be together on the weekends,” I whispered frantically. “Please don’t do anything mad over me, I’d never forgive myself.”

“All right… calm down, Al, please calm down... Merlin, love. Look, I promise, all right? I solemnly swear I’ll be up to no good _in school_ for this entire year… but you have to promise me something as well: you’ll move in with me, as soon as I’m done here. Promise, Al, or I swear, I’ll walk right out of Hogwarts and never look back this very evening! I can’t ever risk…”

He stopped, but the anxiety in his eyes told me the rest of the story, and my heart melted. He was willing to risk everything to be with me, and in return, he only asked me to promise him the one thing I’d dreamed about all along anyway. So, I wiped away traces of my tears and nodded, already smiling like a loony because that’s how I was around him, that was how he always made me feel. I was just mad about him.

But it wasn’t until he kissed me, that I’d properly realised that I had my Hugh back. The bliss of perfect happiness ran through me like a silver stream, and I let myself drown in it. In his arms, I’d found myself again.

It turned out to be an exhausting, yet wonderful year, at the end of which Hugo finished Hogwarts with the highest amount of N.E.W.T.s in his year, and I couldn’t wait to keep my promise: I moved in with him. But that year had also taken its toll on me. Regardless of how close to Hugo I was, I was still living on my own, without his support and his confidence, surrounded by neighbours who _stared_ and whispered when he left my house in the morning, time and time again. Everyone knew who we were – I look more like Dad every day, and he’s had people call him “Ron!” to his back by mistake – and I just couldn’t bring myself to ignore them. I’d lower my head, made sure I all but ran past them murmuring a hasty “hello”, and I only exhaled my anxiety when I was able to hide in the safety of the four walls around me.

I don’t know why I cared – I don’t know why I _ever_ cared about anyone’s opinion other than that of my Hugo’s and mine, but that’s how I’m made, and I don’t know how to change it. God knows my heart squeezed in my chest every time I introduced Hugo as my cousin, and I felt his eyes on me. I sensed the devastation behind the wall of blue, and I was instantly drowned in white-hot shame. Mother of God, how could I be such a bastard?! But so far, he’d never said anything, and I’d given myself a free pass _every.bloody.time_ , feverishly promising to myself that I would try and do better next time, speak the words, put myself out there, stand up for what we are – but so far, my courage had failed me on every occasion. I don’t know how Hugo could take it; how _anyone_ could stand such cowardice, take blow after blow… and for how much longer?

But something happened a week ago that shattered the fragile house of cards we had built our life in and made me realise I can’t go on like this.

I met Hugo’s mother, Aunt Hermione. Perhaps “met her” isn’t really the right choice of words as she came to the shop specifically to see me, and she’s never made a secret of it. I haven’t seen her around much since the divorce because she practically lives at the Ministry these days. But she came to see me, and she got right to the point.

“Close the shop, Albus, it’s nearly closing time anyway, and there’s always another day. I need to talk to you.”

I did as she told me – she was the Minister after all, and she always scared me just a little bit. She was never unkind, but… oh, I reckon I find it easier to cope with people who aren’t always right.

“I met Hugo the other day,” she told me when we sit down to a cup of tea and a serving of scones she managed to pull out of nowhere. “By chance, because he doesn’t visit, and I barely know where to look for him. There’s no point in complaining about that – it is largely my fault, and I understand his resentment. But he is still my son, and I care very much for him, like it or not. And the first thing that struck me about him – the one thing that shocked me, really, because I expected things to be different – was the fact that he didn’t look happy.”

She looked at me with those sharp, clever eyes, and my heart froze in my chest. She came here to be my judge and jury, and I had no defence in place.

“He tried – god knows he tried very hard to give me that impression, if nothing else, to defy me, because he told me once – barely a child at the time – that he would end up with you whether I liked it or not – and that boy would sell his soul to prove me wrong. But I don’t care about being right or wrong this time, Albus,” she said firmly, yet strangely solemnly. “I only care about seeing my son happy. So, I’m here to ask you this, Albus Potter: What are you doing? Why are you wasting Hugo’s time like this?”

I… she took my breath away. Knocked it right out of my chest as I stared into her unrelenting brown eyes, and she told me that I was not treating Hugo right, that I was not good enough for him – and why. And as she spoke, I realised… she was right. I realised we can’t go on like this. For some time now, we’ve been rolling towards a breaking point, and the time has arrived for me to reach a decision.

Hugo, I know you’re reading this. I’ve asked you to. And it’s time for me to tell you that I _have_ , at long last, reached a decision… made that one final call concerning us, our future, and what I feel is best for us. Don’t worry, you’ll have your say in it. I’m sending you the information on the Portkey tomorrow. Please, don’t try to seek me out, please don’t ask me any questions, just take it, and… trust me. I’ve given this much thought.

~

_Merlin, Al, my fingers are still shaking as I’m writing this. You can’t just… who ends on such a note?! It’s cruel, and mad and… god, Al, but I know you’re none of those things, you’re just you, and sometimes you’re hurtful without knowing. But I’m going to write this down because you asked me – and you know I’m pants at saying no to you – and as a sort of legacy to what we used to be... until this… craziness now._

_I didn’t sleep a second that night, not one. I couldn’t believe you met with my mum and wouldn’t tell me... I couldn’t imagine anything good coming out of such a meeting either. Of course she would tell you that you weren’t good enough for me, she never was on our side! And what was that nonsense about me not being happy?! Of course I was happy… that bloody woman… she used your insecurity to break us apart! All right, perhaps things_ could _still be a tad..._ improved _but since I’ve read your_ side _of the story, Al – I’ve realised I didn’t do a very good job trying to walk a mile in your shoes. I just… didn’t get it, but having read it all, I knew I pushed you too hard. It made me realise I could go to the end of my life as nothing but “your cousin” if that meant I could keep you, keep living with you, keep loving you._

_After having read your last words, I felt like the ceiling was collapsing down on me, and I only wished I had any means to tell you that I was willing to keep you, no matter what, no matter the price, and fuck perfect happiness and all. But our diary was all I had left. I left you a lengthy note in there, trying to persuade you to ignore my mum and how living without you was going to leave me devastated. But there was no response. I know you told me not to try and reach out to you, but I hoped… I don’t know what I hoped. But you promised to let me have my say, and in the end, I put all my hopes on that. No way I was giving you up without a fight! I would have sought Mum out to give her a piece of my mind if I thought that would do me any good, but I thought I knew the woman all too well – once she’d made up her mind, there was no turning her._

_But I truly wasn’t ready for what was waiting for me. I mean, seriously – who could be?_

_The information on the Portkey arrived with the morning owl post, so I shrunk my diary and put it in my pocket because it was always my lucky charm, and Apparated to Diagon Alley to find it. And my heart nearly stopped when I saw it. It was a diary. Your diary, and it even looked a bit damaged. Which was symbolic, that much I knew – but it probably meant you haven’t read the word I left you in there. I don’t know what I expected when I took ahold of it – perhaps that it would take me to some secluded place where you’d be able to tell me without too many witnesses that it was all over between us... perhaps to our favourite café so I wouldn’t make too much drama in front of the witnesses...? I really don’t know. But not that._

_I landed in the Ministry of Magic, in one of the lofty rooms for hearings with room enough to fit the entire Wizengamot in – I remembered it well from the times when I was still a child and Mum would take us to work in hopes one of us would follow in her footsteps. And the room was full. Everyone was there already. A dozen solemn wizards and witches – as well as my entire family. Mum, serious as always and frowning, not even looking at me, but focused on the notes in front of her. Dad and Uncle Harry – holding hands?! Merlin – what?! Then there was Rose, smirking at me, Scorpius, restless, smiling and looking almost as nervous as I, as well as Aunt Ginny and her new beau, a beefy guy that looked too big for his leather jacket. Lily was there with her emo Muggle, who appeared completely taken with the scene, animatedly talking to my Grandpa Arthur, and even James came, smiling broadly, and trying to pick twigs out of his hair while chatting to Grandma Molly. Everyone… and you._

_You were so very handsome in your best attire that my heart simply screamed at the sight of you, willing you to look at me, to make sense of this impossible scene, to tell me that there was still some hope for us. Your cheeks were flushed and you looked too damn nervous and all too serious – and you very deliberately looked past me as I was being led to the seat that seemed reserved for me. And I still had no comprehension_ whatsoever _of what was going on._

_As soon as I was seated, a man in a pointed hat got up from the ranks of the wizards occupying the benches reserved for the Wizengamot, and spoke up._

_“As we are now all present, I’m calling on the honourable wizard Draco Malfoy, presiding over the Wizengamot’s Special Board for Family Affairs to begin the procedure.”_

_My jaw just… disconnected, almost literally. If it wasn’t attached, it would’ve been lying on the floor. I stared at Scorpius’s father taking a seat at the front bench, and as he looked me, he gave me a rogue smile. It finally dawned on me what this_ could _all be about – but I was afraid to believe it._

_And then Mr.Malfoy spoke in that cool, composed voice of his._

_“Today’s case at hand: Albus Severus Potter applying for permission to marry Hugo Weasley.”_

_And the world just kind of blurred at the edges after that. I looked at you in disbelief and awe, and you finally glanced at me nervously, shooting me that shy, fucking gorgeous smile of yours, and my heart just melted in my chest. Merlin, I never understood how people said they could die of love, but I honestly felt that in that moment, that I was going to be one of those fools. Fuck… I still have tears in my eyes when I think of it…_

_“The applicant is a first cousin of Hugo Weasley – whom he wishes to marry – through the sibling relations between Ginevra Potter, born Weasley, the mother of the applicant, and Ronald Billius Weasley, the father of Hugo Weasley, the prospective husband. As first cousins, they are required to obtain this Board’s permission to sanction any potentially unwanted mixing of magical blood. Minister Hermione Granger will be presenting the case on behalf of the applicant,” Draco Malfoy cited further, and then sat back to listen to Mum talk._

_Mum glanced at me, and suddenly she shocked me with one of those sweet, wonderful smiles I barely remembered from my youth. I hadn’t seen her flash one in at least a decade. It was a smile she used to put me to bed with on the rare occasions when it was her turn and… I loved that smile on her. It made her look young and happy, sort of carefree, conspiratory, mischievous, and approachable… It brought back an unexpected memory of how loved, protected, and cared for that smile made me feel._

_“A marriage such as we have proposed today was far from uncommon in the centuries before this one,” Mum started business-like, as she would. “In fact, some historians estimate that in the past 80% of all marriages in history may have been between second cousins or closer – and in the wizarding communities, small and limited as they are, the occurrence of such marriages might have been even higher. A good example of close and inter-connected relationship through marriage would be the Black family, now extinct, who was known to have a relative in every pure-blood family to date. I think it’s safe to say that a drop of the Black family blood lives in nearly all of you present today. The occurrence and perception of such a marriage as common is therefore undisputed. However…”_

_Mum paused and then looked across her shoulder to where Dad and Uncle Harry were seated, and then continued more softly:_

_“The case at hand is still unique; there is no question about that. I might go as far as calling it landmark. Not only are parties applying for permission first cousins – they are also both men, and such a case, to my knowledge, does not exist anywhere in the judicial records of this noble institution. Albus Potter and his chosen partner cannot hope to gain anything with such a marriage: they can have no children of their own, nor can they hope to make any kind of profit with inheritance on either side. What, then, is the motivation for such a request? In regard to that, I would like to invite Harry James Potter, Albus’s father, to the stand, as he expressed his wish to present his standpoint on the matter.”_

_Boy, was Uncle Harry nervous… almost as nervous as I! But he glanced at me, and sighed as if he was bracing for a fight._

_“Hugo was always the most important person in my son’s life,” he said so quietly, Mum had to gesticulate to him to speak louder. He cleared his throat and continued a bit more firmly. “Albus and Hugo were inseparable from before Hugo could walk, and honestly, I can’t imagine ever seeing them part ways. There were a few instances in their lives when they were forced apart for months at a time, and you can trust my word – it didn’t go well for either of them. I confess it sometimes made me feel uncomfortable to think how close they were, and I worried a bit what would be in store for them, being so close – yet they were so happy together, so right for each other, that in the end, my objections just... disappeared. Because, you see, Hugo and my Albus have something which most of us haven’t had a chance to see up close, and probably don’t know how appreciate properly: pure, unfiltered love. Love, uncorrupted by prejudice, love that doesn’t care for consequences, love that knows no fear…”_

_Uncle Harry exhaled a little as if he’d got to the hard part, and then he said adamantly:_

_“The kind of love I always envied. You see, many of you probably don’t know, but I’ve been in love with the same person since I was fifteen – and it’s not the person I married. At the beginning, I had too much on my plate, and later… I just didn’t have the courage. But it’s always been you, Ron,” Uncle Harry looked over his shoulder and smiled at Dad, and Dad made a muffled kind of sound, almost as if he had to stifle a sob. “Thirty odd years later, I’m finally living with the man I love, but my hesitance – my cowardice, if you like – caused a great deal of suffering to everyone involved. But I think it’s safe to say that the happiness I know now would never have happened if it wasn’t for our children. Not only did they show us what true love was – they showed us what courage was,” Uncle Harry said in a slightly trembling voice, and I thought he was never more glorious._

_“Because it takes real courage to stand up for love this unconventional; it takes real courage and true, bone-deep love knowing that you are willing sacrifice everything you could have had just to be with the person you love. I… didn’t have that kind of courage. Ron did – he told me years ago that he was willing to leave it all behind to be with me, or live forever in my shadow, if that’s what it took – but I didn’t. And I don’t want my son to have the same regrets. I want my son, my precious, special Albus, to have the best of love he deserves. And before you make your decision, I’d like to remind you that it was love – the love such as that of my mother, or that of Severus Snape, and even the one demonstrated by Lady Narcissa Malfoy – that saved the world we live in now. Those were all different kinds of love – but there really isn’t the one_ right _kind, is there? What Hugo and Albus have – is the best kind. That’s all I have to say. Thank you.”_

 _He turned around and walked back to his seat, looking a little deflated, but as he passed Albus, I saw Al grab his hand, and mouth_ “Thank you, Dad”. _But what really made me gulp down my emotions and made Grandma Molly begin to sob, was the sight of my father getting up and hugging Uncle Harry so fiercely, I thought he was going to crush every bone in his body. Then he kissed him, straight on the mouth, and walked towards Mum. He murmured a few words to her that I could not hear, and then she shrugged, smiled, and moved away._

_And Dad went straight to the stand. He looked around, blushed a little, frowned at Malfoy’s smirk, and scratched his head._

_“Uhm, I’m the other dad… as you may well know… Ron Weasley’s the name. Look, I really didn’t want to do this, because I’m all sorts of pants as a speaker, but I honestly want to ask you this: let Hugo and Al marry... because Harry and I won’t. I mean, we would, but now we won’t. We decided not to because we have no idea what the law says on that – you know, having the dads married, and then the children… bloody hell, we’re weird… Anyway, we don’t want to cause kids any problems. They should be the ones. And – I can’t talk for Al – but my Hugo wanted to be married to Albus since he was ten years old, uhm, a family friend told me that. So, I would very much like to ask you to let them. Er, that’s all, I think… I can’t think of anything else… or better. Uh…”_

_He walked off the stand, red as a beet, stopped at my mum’s and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear: “You don’t reckon I blew their chances, eh?” And then my Mum hugged him the way I wanted to, and I could see her say: “You did just fine… just fine, Ronald. Truly.”_

_She stepped up to the stand then, and addressed the Board._

_“My son Hugo is exceptionally stubborn,” she said calmly. “If you deny their request today, he will find a way around it, I assure you. He was just nine years old when he told me_ “Al is mine” _– and when I objected, the way any rational person would, that he had no life experience and had no way of telling what life could bring – he shut me down with a dare to come and see them in ten years because he’d love to prove me wrong. As it turns out – I was wrong, and he wasn’t.”_

_She looked at me, and smiled one of those rare, heart-warming smiles again, and then she continued perfectly calmly:_

_“I didn’t believe in their love because life had taught me to be sarcastic and cynical. I’d had my share of personal failures by the time that conversation took place, and I no longer had the innocence of heart to believe in love that lasts forever. But you could say, that I also didn’t have all the facts. You see, I had no experience with love like theirs. You know how Albus and Hugo refer to the bond they have? Unbreakable. It took me years to come to terms with it, and my own divorce, but I finally believe, it truly is. We – all of us here, not just Albus – came to ask you today, to give them your permission to officially make it so.”_

_Wow... Mum was like… damn. I would be hard pressed to say anything in that moment. She was the last person I expected to take our side, yet there she was, standing up for us like our happiness was the cause closest to her heart._

_“I think we’ve heard enough to make a decision,” Draco Malfoy spoke with professional coolness. “Does the applicant have anything to add before the Board retires to reach its decision?”_

_“I… yes,” you said, and you got up – but you didn’t walk to the stand as you were supposed to, did you? You walked straight to me instead. I don’t think I was ever so close to fainting in my life – nor as Weasley red; I felt all the blood rush to my face and my heart attempting to escape through my throat. You stopped in front of me, and when you looked at me with those magical green eyes of yours, I swear, the bond between us as good as sparkled. You didn’t even have to say the words – I bet everyone in that hall could tell we were meant to be one._

_“I haven’t even asked you yet…” you said shyly, but when I shook my head, unable to speak, you slowly dropped to your knee, and took out a little box in the colour of our diary. In there… goddamn you, Al, my fingers are still shaking… in the box, there was a golden circular clasp that used to close your diary, together with the tiny key… and I realised it was a golden ring all this time. I glanced at Dad, and he winked at me, and I can’t tell you how moved I was, realising that he had that made for us a decade ago, thinking, perhaps hoping that one they we were going to need it._

_But you took my hand then, and the rest of the world just disappeared:_

_“Hugo Weasley,” you said surprisingly loudly, and then added more softly: “My Hugh. I loved you since I was a year old. You’re the one solid, happy thing in my life, my purpose and my compass. I don’t care what this Board says… what anyone says… but I came here today to acknowledge and honour the bond we have in front of the whole world… and to ask you… to beg you, really, because I’m so very lost without you… to be mine for life. I know I only have myself to give, and I’m far from perfect, but I’m yours, heart and soul… if you’ll have me. Please say yes, Hugh.”_

_“God…” my voice was shaking so badly, I could barely make it work, so I nodded before I spoke the feeblest, yet most frantic “Yes...” in the history of wizardkind, so I cleared my throat, and I might have shouted a little: “Yes!!! Merlin, Allie… of course I’ll have you.”_

_Well, you know… the place was full of Weasleys… of course the cheers and the applause were loud enough to nearly bring the house down… that was to be expected. When most of the chaos subsided, and I had you sitting in my lap, barely able to unglue my lips from yours, I heard Draco Malfoy clear his voice loudly to demand everyone’s attention, and we realised we were still at the Ministry, so we somehow managed to break our kiss and turned to face the Board._

_“Well, well, well…” said Scorpius’s father. “That was certainly unexpected. If I didn’t know better, I’d certainly think this Board meeting was rigged, as it seems all has been decided before we even got here. But in favour of the proper procedure I ask you, my fellow Board members – does anyone still want to retire in order to reach a decision – it has to be unanimous, as you know – or…?”_

_“Well, I’m certainly not going anywhere unless I’m absolutely required,” an old, terribly wrinkled, grumpy-looking witch said. “I’m 170 years old, as you all know, I see no need to walk up and down these stairs twice for no reason whatsoever. I say we take our vote here. I vote ‘yes’. If I was 150 years younger, I’d kneel for that redheaded one as well!”_

_“Very well,” Mr. Malfoy said to a background of giggles, barely keeping a smirk to himself. “Anyone else in favour of the applicant’s request?”_

_Every last hand in that room shot up, even though an old wizard in the back row had to be nudged to do so as he had clearly dozed off. And I meant_ every _hand, the hands of our family members included._

_“Request approved,” Draco Malfoy declared dryly. “Albus Severus Potter has this Board’s approval to marry Hugo Weasley.”_

_“And ours!” Rose howled, and the room echoed with laughter._

_“Would you care to be married right away?” Mr. Malfoy asked. “I have the authority.”_

_“Go ahead, son!” I heard Dad yell from the background. “We might have, uh, anticipated this esteemed Board’s decision and took care of a feast back home. And if you won’t – there’s still going to be one. I told Harry that if I can live without the wedding but not the wedding party!”_

_“Well, everyone’s already here,” you said, and your smile was never more beautiful or radiant. “And if you have your diary, you have the ring – and I know you don’t go anywhere without your diary, Hugo Weasley. So, might as well? But I might request you wear your Yule ball outfit for the wedding night,” you whispered, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen your smile so sexy and naughty. “I have a special weakness for that one.”_

_Oh, I just couldn’t let you own me like that, you knew very well what you did to me._

_“And I want my groom naked,” I whispered. “On his back, with those beautiful pink nipples…”_

_“Oh god, shut up, Hugh, please shut up, we’re supposed… oh, let’s just get married quickly.”_

_So Draco Malfoy married two goofily-smiling dorks that might or might not have been sporting rather obvious respective hard-ons. He made it very simple._

_“Albus Severus Potter, Hugo Weasley, do you wish to marry and become one – or the way you refer to it – unbreakable, in the eyes of the law?”_

_We both said “I do” so unanimously, it made him smile and murmur: “I guess you already are.”_

_I still can’t believe it, Allie. I can’t believe you just went and did it… made all my dreams come true._

_~_

Hugo, love... those were my dreams as well. All I ever wanted for us was to become... and remain, unbreakable.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](https://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/118108.html).


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